Knight's Honor
by KnifeInTheCrayonBox
Summary: Jane's feelings towards her fellow knight Gunther have remained largely unchanged throughout the years, so she can't understand why she gives into temptation one late night when he returns to their inn room drunk, claiming to want her in ways that make her weak in the knees. But some things are not so easily forgotten—especially when the consequences are of a more permanent nature.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

 _Just Outside Burford, Mercia_

 _July, 822 A.D._

Being a knight had its perks, but traveling down a long, dusty road on one of the hottest days in July wasn't one of them.

The horses Jane and I rode moved at a languid pace while we sat in the saddles, sweating like hogs in all our armor. The sun beat down on us, and I was dizzy from the metal helmet I wore. It seemed to trap the heat, making it scorching hot, and the mail coif I wore over that did not help matters. The small metal rings—heated from the sun—brushed against my face and stung my skin. But there was nothing I could do about that now.

Jane had begrudgingly told me to wear my padding under my coif when she saw me going without—and for this exact reason—but I had been in an irritable mood this morning, and only brushed her comment aside, thinking about how hot it would be under all that extra clothing. That, and the stubborn part of my mind made me _not_ want to wear it simply because she had told me to. So I was not about to dig it out of my saddle bag right now and prove her right. The only part of my body that was not blistering hot was my chest, since—ironically—the padding under my mail provided a cooling effect.

I reached a hand up and wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead, inwardly cursing the heat. For the first time in…well, for the first time _ever_ , I wished King Caradoc had let us ride to the Kingdom of Northumbria—which, just our luck, happened to be hundreds of miles from our own kingdom—on the back of that large green frog Jane called her friend. At least then we would have the wind to cool us down, and a much shorter trip. But King Caradoc had decided that it wouldn't look good to bring a large, formidable dragon along for a mission of making an alliance with them.

Even though the large green lizard _was_ one of our selling points—Caradoc made it clear that an alliance with us would mean that Dragon would be on their side—it was thought that it might be taken as a threat to bring him along. Although our kingdoms were not _technically_ enemies, we left each other well enough alone. Our little kingdom rested just outside the border between Wessex and Sussex, on the coast, both of whom we had trading agreements with. Since those two kingdoms were not exactly on friendly terms with Northumbria, we were understood to be enemies with them as well. But all that was about to change.

Now both our kingdom's had a common enemy—the heathen invaders from the north who called themselves Vikings. They had become such a big problem that there was even talk of Pope Paschal in Rome sending missionaries to preach to them in hopes of converting them. King Caradoc, on the other hand, intended to be more proactive about the problem, and thought it might be wise if we made an alliance with Northumbria, so that united, we might put a stop to the continuous raids that had plagued everyone for the last thirty years, and which were expected to continue and expand even more, if not defeated. It would be good to have them on our side should the raiders continue their reign of terror and attack our kingdom.

We had been lucky not to be the target of a raid, since even Francia to the southeast of us had a few cities raided a couple years ago. There was speculation in the kingdom that tales of Dragon kept the savages away, but how long would their fear of the large lizard last? How much longer could we hide behind Dragon before they turned their eyes to the riches of our kingdom and overcame their fear? So Jane and I had been tasked with delivering a very important letter to King Eanred of Northumbria…on horseback. We had received a favorable reply, and were now on our way home. There was nothing to do now but travel back and deliver the good news.

Father would be beside himself with joy, knowing that an agreement between the two kingdoms would mean more business for him, and that meant more money. He would probably expect me to settle down soon as well. At the ripe age of twenty-four, and as a knight with a respectable title and money to my name, Father wouldn't settle for anything less than a woman with a good title and lots of money to her name…however, _finding_ such a woman would be tricky.

Our name was thought poorly of in the village due to the fact that my family made their fortune by trading with the enemy during the siege on Kippernium nearly a century ago. Finding a woman who would be able to look past my status as a 'blood traitor' would be tricky, but Father said that with wealth comes power, and now that I was a fully-fledged knight in the King's service, people might look at our family differently. I wondered what Father would think if he knew there was only one woman I could see myself settling down with.

At the mere thought of her, I glanced up from my horse to see that she was a good distance ahead of me. I tapped my heels against my horse's side, and easily caught up with Jane. At the sound of quickening hooves, she turned around and glanced back at me, the irritation clear in her sharp green eyes.

"Keep up, will you?" she snapped, exhaustion biting at her voice. She reached a hand up and wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead before turning around in the saddle. I frowned, but didn't reply.

Usually, I would be able to think of some comeback or, at the very least, an insult to throw back at her, but I didn't have one this time. I probably would have, except I was focused on other things, like the way her hips rocked from side to side from the motion of her horse; the way confidence seemed to radiate from her whole being, evident in the way she walked and held herself; the way her emerald green eyes sparked with fire when she turned around and narrowed them at me. Of course, this wasn't the first time I had noticed these things—that began a few years ago…and it annoyed me to no end.

Most of the time I squashed these thoughts by pushing them to the farthest corners of my mind, where I wouldn't think about them. But as of late, it was becoming harder to banish these unwanted thoughts. All I saw when I looked at Jane was a beautiful woman. That pushiness and stubbornness that annoyed me so many years ago had faded into an admiration for her strength and tenacity.

It was once jealousy I felt, because why should it be so easy for her? I had to struggle with my knight's training, while for Jane it seemed effortless. She was forever besting me and always had to be right about _everything!_ It was so annoying, but once I grew up, I realized that all it did was make me work harder. Her competitiveness and our rivalry while training helped shape me into the man I was today. She pushed me to do the right thing—to live up to the Knight's Code of Conduct. I didn't realize it then, but she made me _want_ to meet her expectations—to prove that I could be the kind of man who deserved her attention and admiration. It was by no means easy, but now we stood on equal ground.

Still, I seemed to have lost one problem only to gain another. I lost my resentment for Jane and seemed to trade it for exactly the opposite. It certainly wasn't my fault that she was beautiful—not that I'd ever admit it to anyone. I even had trouble admitting it to myself. I wasn't supposed to think about Jane this way. I was certain there were laws against feeling this way about a fellow knight…but then again, there had once been a law against women becoming knights.

I could see why now.

It was not because women were incapable—they could be quite capable and determined, as Jane had proven—but because how was a man supposed to keep his mind on the mission and the battle when there was a beautiful woman not ten feet away? Every time I even sensed danger was near, I felt an overwhelming protectiveness wash over me. Yes, Jane could take care of herself, but the urge to protect her was involuntary—it came quite naturally, no matter how unnecessary and unwanted it may be. It was quite distracting when one's mind needed to stay focused.

Not only protectiveness, but I found myself distracted by her beauty—her body. As sinful as lust was, I found myself trapped by it sometimes. How could I _not_ notice her body? I was still a man, and therefore, found myself wanting Jane every way a man could have a woman—heart, mind, and body. Sometimes, I wanted her so badly it _hurt_ , but as a knight, I knew discipline. I would ever act upon my feelings. Even if Jane had feelings for me and was willing, I could not destroy her reputation like that. The Knight's Code of Conduct—the thing Jane had always used against me when we were younger—called for me to guard the honor of fellow knights _and_ respect the honor of women. As a woman and fellow knight, it was my duty to protect her honor, even though she would scowl at the thought of me _protecting_ her from anything.

"Why are you staring at me?" I heard Jane demand, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I blinked and suddenly noticed that Jane had turned slightly around in her saddle, and was now staring at me in irritation. Cursing myself silently for being caught staring at her, I racked my brain for a lie. Unfortunately for me—or perhaps fortunately, since the last thing I wanted was for her to realize my feelings for her—I said the first thing that came to my mind.

Which just so happened to be an insult.

"There is something right there," I replied, pointing towards my own cheek. Jane furrowed her eyes in confusion and reached up a hand, brushing her fingers against her flushed cheek. "Oh, never mind. It is just your ugly face."

Jane sent me a scowl before turning back around, muttering under her breath. Well, she could certainly swear like a man, if nothing else…

It came as a reflex, to insult her. Not that I meant it anymore, but after years of exchanging insults amidst the sound of wooden swords hitting each other, it had become a habit. Now it was nothing more than a defense against her—a wall I had built up so she wouldn't see past my façade. If I stopped insulting her she might see through the cracks, and who knows how she would react. She might mock me, or tell her friends, and then I would become the laughing stock of all of Kippernium—a knight in love with his partner. How ridiculous!

Everybody already despised me, I did not need another reason for them to make fun of me. I especially did not want to find myself on the bad end of one of Jester's jokes—whose crush on Jane has only seemed to grow since they were young. However, her feelings for him seemed to remain largely unchanged. Either she was a better actress than I gave her credit for, or—like I suspected—she only saw him as a friend.

However, I could at least sympathize with Jester. I knew how it felt to feel strongly about her and have her feel nothing in return. At least he had the good fortune of being her friend. That, at the very least, earned him a certain amount of affection from her—the occasional dazzling smile, hearing her let out a laugh and having the satisfaction of knowing that it was _he_ who made her laugh.

The only time I was able to make her laugh was when I fell flat on my face or embarrassed myself in some way. Jester even had the privilege of being her best friend—well, her best _human_ friend, that is. That earned him a hug every once in a while when she was very pleased with him, or when she was upset and needed comfort. I could only watch with envy when I saw her hug him. I knew I would forever be stuck just _imagining_ how it felt to have her arms wrapped around me…to feel her warm body pressed against mine—

"I will be glad when this mission is over so I can get away from you, bog weevil," she muttered, interrupting my thoughts. Even though I should be used to her insults by now—after all, I had been enduring them for years—it still stung a little. All because of these stupid feelings I had. Well, at least she didn't suspect anything…

We traveled for a few more minutes before Jane finally spoke again. "We need to make a brief stop. The horses need to rest and it is a good time to take a break and eat."

I glanced up to see her tug the reigns and lead her horse over to a scrawny looking tree by the side of the road. Unfortunately, it was the only tree for miles around, so it would have to do. I pulled the reigns to the right and followed her. By the time I got my horse under the limited shade, Jane had already tied her horse up and pulled the canteen out of her saddle bag. I swung myself out of the saddle and tied the reigns to a nearby tree branch before opening my own bag and taking out some of our provisions.

I ripped off a chunk of the bread and took a bite as I watched Jane tip her head back, bringing the canteen to her mouth. Some of the water escaped from the corner of her lips and carved its way down her cheek, then slipped under her mail. I averted my eyes before any unwanted thoughts could pop up, and instead turned my attention to the dry, withered leaves on the tree.

"How much farther do we have to travel?"

I heard the rustling of paper and then a long pause. "Eighty more miles. Should be two more days of journeying—perhaps three. There's a town called Burford about seven miles ahead, though. We should reach it before dusk and stop there for the night." There was more rustling of paper and then I heard her saddle bag click as she closed it. A silence followed that seemed to last longer than it actually did. Seconds seemed to drag on, which was unusual for us since we spent most of our time together arguing or insulting each other.

"Okay, what is wrong with you?" Jane finally demanded. My eyes snapped up to look at her and narrowed in anger.

"Excuse me?"

Jane put one hand on her hip and glared back at me. "You heard me, maggot! You have been acting weird this whole trip, and I want to know why."

"I have not been acting weird!" I glanced away, unable to meet her piercing gaze.

"Yes, you have! You will not stop staring at me, and you have been unusually silent as of late!"

"When I talk too much, you are cross, and now when I talk too little, you are cross?" I snapped, wishing Jane would just drop the subject. But I knew her better than that—she was too stubborn to let anything go. "That is just like a woman—nothing can satisfy you!"

"I am not cross, I am concerned," she said, her voice a bit gentler this time.

"Do not waste it on me. I am _fine_ ," I spat back at her, doing my best to send her a glare as I turned my gaze to her. The last thing I needed was her _pity_. She returned the look before snatching the bread from me and breaking off a piece.

We ate our small meal in silence, and when we were recovered, we got back up on our horses and set off for the town. We reached the village an hour or two before sunset, and instantly spotted an inn—marked by a board hanging above the stone archway. I took our horses around to the stables and gave them over to the care of the stable boy, while Jane purchased a room for the both of us.

As if being in close proximity was not distracting enough, Jane and I slept in close quarters while on missions—mostly in empty barns or any sort of shelter we could find if no one was willing to let us lodge for the night. Male knights always did this while traveling together, so Jane—always one to be treated equally—never complained about the arrangement. I did not want to appear like it bothered me, so I went along with it.

It was not like it could be helped, since we were traveling together, but it was quite awkward to be sleeping so close to her. There were a few instances when I woke up with one arm draped over her shoulder, and had to promptly remove it before she woke. There was even one occasion when I woke up to find her snuggled against my side, face buried in my chest. Needless to say that when she awoke, I was a proper distance away.

As I strolled back into the main room of the building, Jane walked over to me. "We were given a room on the second floor. Second door to your left once you have climbed the stairwell."

I gave a nod of understanding, then let my eyes travel over to the tavern in the next room, where men were drinking and laughing as they gambled. Jane's eyes also wandered over to them, and then returned to meet my gaze. We both shared a look.

The bread was filling enough, and we did not want to waste any money on extra food when we had enough provisions. Though…after being away from the castle for so long, I was yearning for a hot meal. The first place I would visit once I got home would be Pepper's kitchen. However, I could use a drink right _now._ As if she could read my mind, Jane immediately spoke up.

" _No._ I need you sober-minded. We leave first thing in the morning," she said, placing both hands on her hips. As I glanced over her curves, once again feeling a wave of longing wash over me, I knew I _needed_ a drink.

"I am a grown man, Jane, and can make my own decisions," I shot back, lifting my chin up.

She narrowed her eyes. "We make decisions together, Gunther, as a _team_ —or did you forget the meaning of that word?"

"Then perhaps my teammate might loosen up and have a drink as well," I said, giving her shoulder a poke. At this she crossed her arms over her chest and sent me a glare. "I am having one, Jane, whether you like it or not. Do not get your knickers in a twist, I will not get drunk, and we will leave as planned at dawn."

At this I spun on my heel and stalked off towards the tavern. I just needed a drink or two to get my mind off Jane and the troubling thoughts that seemed to follow me whenever she was around.

* * *

 **First of all, I'd like to thank my Beta, _Amelle Kyre_ for all her help with this story. :)**

 **You don't have to read the next part unless you're interested, it's just some history and facts about Jane's time:**

 **You might notice that Jane and Gunther's armor is different from what's shown on the show, but this was to make it more historically accurate. Jane's plated armor and Sir Theodore's armor in the show are both reminiscent of** ** _lorica segmentata_ , a type of armor used by Roman soldiers, but this design was discarded after the fall of the Roman Empire because of the cost and time involved in making small pieces of plate metal. And plates of metal didn't come back into popularity until the 13th century, where they were used to protect joints and other areas of the body, and over time, more plates were added until you get the full-plated knight most people think of when they think of knight's.** **During Jane's time, knight's would wear leather armor, padded clothing, and chainmail. But the clothing will come up more in the next chapter.**

 **One thing that wasn't historically accurate about this chapter: they didn't have maps back in Jane's day. Well, they _did_ , but not the fold-them-up-and-put-them-in-your-saddlebag type of maps we have today. They weren't usually very accurate, and didn't include roads (the only roads they had were left over from the one's the Roman Empire built and a few unpaved roads from earlier British tribes). Usually when someone traveled they would ask directions in the town they came upon, and the person there would tell them which direction or road to travel, and when they got to the next town, they would repeat the process until they reached their destination...but this is fiction, so I took some liberties.**

 **Back in Jane's time, England was divided into a few different Kingdoms, but there were three big one's: Northumbria, Wessex, and Mercia (which had conquered the other, smaller ones like Essex, Kent, and Sussex), but even during this time there were lesser kingdoms that retained their independence, so it's possible there could have been a Kippernium-like kingdom back then.**

 **There will probably be history facts in other chapters in the Author's Notes as it becomes relevant, but for now I hope you enjoyed learning a bit more about Jane's time and the start of this story! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I let out a huff as I watched Gunther walk into the tavern and sit down on a bench, ordering himself a drink. He was forever making things difficult for me! I was torn between going in there and ordering a drink just to annoy him, and heading up to the room. Finally, I decided to save myself the headache and get some rest.

Just as I was about to turn and climb the stairs, I spotted a barmaid saunter up behind Gunther. She leaned over and draped her arms over his shoulders, then ran her hands down his chest. Red-hot anger boiled up inside me as I watched the scene unfold.

We were supposed to be on a _mission_ , and here Gunther was, drinking and letting some tavern wench run her hands all over him! And yet, it was not an entirely surprising scene to watch unfold. There were quite a few women at the castle who I would catch staring longingly after Gunther when he passed by, but I knew none of them would ever approach him because of the dishonor attached to his surname, but whenever we were on missions, women would come up and flirt with him. Bolder women would make advances. I guess there was something that could be considered attractive about Gunther, not that I really noticed. It still boiled my blood when it happened, though. Could he not go anywhere without having some girl cling to him like a limpet? It was such a nuisance having his attention on something else when his attention _should_ be on the mission.

Just as I was about to walk into the tavern and put a stop to such nonsense, he gently grabbed her wrists and removed them. She looked a bit upset at that, but he quickly shot her a wink before sending her away. I rolled my eyes and strode away, not caring to watch any more. I walked out the back door and climbed the creaky wooden stairs up to the second floor. Once I reached my room I shut the door and let out a sigh.

For the past few days we'd had hardly any rest while traveling. It was risky to sleep out in the open, exposed to the elements and any miscreants passing by, but it was necessary since we didn't always end up in a village at the end of the day. So for the past few days Gunther and I had to sleep in shifts, and even then we did not sleep long. It was best to keep traveling, so it would be refreshing to sleep the whole night through without worrying about being attacked while I slept.

I let out a sigh of relief when I finally removed the mail coif from around my neck and pulled it over my head—my helmet following quickly after and then the padding next. Shaking out my shoulder length curls, I could feel the matted wetness. In some places my hair was plastered to my sweat-drenched neck and cheeks. I probably looked like a mess, but I could worry about that later. I quickly unbuckled my belt and sword, then pulled my long hauberk over my head. The metal rings were still heated from the sun, and carried a noticeable warmth to them. I piled my armor next to the straw-stuffed mattress, and stripped down until I was only wearing my linen undershirt and underpants.

Many women might faint at the thought of wearing their undergarments while sharing the same room with a man who was not their husband, but I was a knight. There was no room for modesty, even if I _was_ a woman. Whenever on a mission we shared a room or slept close together—like all male knights did. I had seen Gunther in his undergarments, and on especially hot nights, without a shirt on. He had seen me in my undergarments as well. It built a sort of comradeship between us, knowing that even though we could not stand each other sometimes, we had seen each other in a way more intimate than all unmarried men and women.

I carefully laid my clothes aside before lying down on the mat; the scratch of frayed fabric felt strangely comfortable against my exposed skin. For a while I just laid there, my blood still boiling from the scene I had witnessed earlier. Why did my mind keep replaying it over and over?

For about an hour I stared at the ceiling as the moon ascended into the sky, moving the shaft of light that filtered through the cutout window in the room. While my body felt tired, my mind was wide awake. Every thought kept turning back to that short scene I had witnessed in the tavern. With a frustrated grunt, I turned on my side and clenched my hands into fists. What was it that had me so worked up?

It took another half hour until my mind finally cooled down and I was able to relax, but by then I had become worried about Gunther. He had been gone for over an hour—what could he possibly be _doing_? He had better not be getting drunk, but then what else could be taking so long? As I pondered on what could be holding him up, a new thought occurred to me—what if he had retired to a room with that barmaid from earlier?

With that one thought, it felt like I had been punched in the stomach. My chest constricted in a painful way and I had trouble breathing. She had certainly been _willing_ , and Gunther may have sent her off, but what about after a few drinks? What if he had only done that because he knew I was watching and didn't want me to report it back to Sir Theodore? I kept reminding myself that Gunther was a knight, and therefore, bound on protect a woman's honor, not take it from her, but the thought kept gnawing at me. I should go down and check up on him—make sure he was still down there and not somewhere else, since I obviously wasn't going to get any sleep until he came back to the room. Just as the thought crossed my mind, the door to our room finally opened.

I sat up and took in Gunther's dark form standing in the doorway. I let out a silent breath of relief when I saw that he was still wearing all his armor. In the dim moonlight he took a step forward, and then stumbled, nearly taking a spill before he caught himself. He turned and managed to close the door, but when he tried to walk forward his legs wobbled beneath him. He muttered something unintelligible, his words slurred together. I scowled in the dark and clenched my hands into fists.

 _Oh, wonderful. He is drunk_ , I thought to myself. _Just what we need right now_.

Though I suppose I should count my blessings. At least he didn't get drunk _during_ the mission. Since we were returning home the mission was more or less _over_. All we had left to do was deliver the scroll to King Caradoc. Gunther would be in for a rough morning tomorrow, and we obviously wouldn't be able to continue with him in that shape. Two knights traveling down a long road in the middle of nowhere had to be on alert for bandits and thieves. If we set out with a nauseous Gunther at dawn, we would be putting ourselves at risk, so we would have to stay here until his hangover passed.

 _Stupid biscuit weevil!_ I thought to myself. I _told_ him not to drink, so what does he do? He gets drunk! Then again, he never listened to me. Perhaps I should always tell him the _opposite_ of what I want him to do. Maybe if I encouraged his reckless behavior, he would find no fun in it anymore…but it was a little too late for that right now.

After a few seconds, he tried to walk again. He slowly pushed himself up using the wall as support, then took a step forward and stumbled. I rolled my eyes as I stood and walked over to him. It looked like I would be babysitting tonight.

"Come on," I said as I slipped an arm around his waist, taking some of his weight onto me as I helped him over to his bed.

"It is not my fault the floor keeps moving," he grumbled. I could smell the sweat and alcohol rolling off him, and when I turned to look at him, I saw wavy strands of black hair escaping from under his coif. I deposited him onto his straw mattress.

"It is hot in here," he complained.

 _That's not my problem,_ I thought as I walked back over to my cot. When I turned back to look at him, he was staring up at me with pleading eyes. I let out a sigh and rolled my eyes.

"Then take your clothes off, beef brain," I said as I laid down on my mat. As I shifted around to find a comfortable position, I spotted him tugging at his hauberk. His fingers groped stiffly at it, like he could not quite work them the way he wanted.

"They will not come off," his said, his words slurred and sloppy. "Jane, my clothes are stuck!"

Good Lord, even drunk he was annoying. I rolled my eyes heavenward, knowing what I would have to do. If he continued like this, I would _never_ get any sleep.

"Stupid bog weevil," I cursed under my breath. I swore up and down that if it ever happened again, I would just let him sleep in hot armor the whole night. He certainly deserved it.

I stood and walked over to him, kneeling down beside his mat. His shoes were the easiest to remove, so I started with those, making sure to thank God that he had not stepped in anything unpleasant today. I placed both boots near the foot of his bed so they would be easier to grab in the morning, then scooted back and started untying the laces to the greaves on his lower legs. After undoing each leather binding, I removed the metal and scooted back towards him. Then I pulled him into a sitting position.

I grabbed the end of the coif and yanked it over his head—noticing that he had not worn any padding under his mail—then removed his helmet, and saw just how wet his hair was under it. Most of it was matted to his head, while the rest hung in limp strands, ending a couple inches below his shoulders. He usually kept it tied back with a leather cord. However, in his haste to get moving this morning, he seemed to have foregone it. I gasped when I suddenly noticed red marks all around his neck—where the hot armor must have rubbed against his skin.

 _And this is what happens when you take shortcuts, maggot!_ I thought to myself. I felt my brows crease in worry as I quickly ran my fingers over the marks. Thankfully, they weren't too serious, but tomorrow he was _definitely_ going to wear his padding! Dropping his coif and helmet next to his mattress, I moved my hands moved down to his waist and unbuckled the leather belt that his sheath hung from. I slipped it from around his hips and placed it onto the growing pile before turning my attention to his armor.

This whole time Gunther had been unusually quiet—just like earlier today. At the remembrance of it, I felt my eyebrows furrow in confusion. Something had obviously been bothering him, and had I not been so exhausted and irritated, I might have pursued the matter. It wasn't like Gunther to be quiet, since he spent most of his time arguing with me or throwing insults my way. Though I suppose I should be grateful for his silence now. At least he wasn't making things more difficult for me. Instead, he remained quiet as I undressed him.

"Come on, stand up," I said, hauling him to his feet. His knees buckled beneath him, and he tried to sink back down. I grasped his arms and held him upright. "No, stop it. Stand up."

He swayed unsteadily, and I knew there was no way he would be able to stand on his own while I pulled the hauberk over his head. Well, that proved a difficulty. Finally, I grabbed him by the shoulders and leaned him against me, his head falling to rest upon my shoulder. My hands snaked around his waist, grasping at the metal chains and pulling them up.

With Gunther so close, I could smell the alcohol with every exhale, making me scrunch my nose at the sour odor. With a sudden shift of his head, soft lips brushed against my neck, and a warm breath fanned against it as he let out a long sigh. My whole body stiffened at the sensation. An involuntary shudder shot down my spine, while my mind screamed at me that it should _not_ have felt as pleasant as it did. My fingers faltered in their work and I was reduced to blindly groping at mail. I finally to get it hiked up around his chest and briefly pushed him off so I could pull it over his head. Then I tossed the hauberk onto the pile next to us.

Next, I reached down to his waist and began undoing the bindings on his mail chausses. He didn't seem any steadier than before, so I had to hold him around the waist with one arm, while my other hand reached down and tried to move the chausses down from around his waist. I got irritated when my one-handed tugging yielded little results. Moving my hand to the front of the metal, I gave a swift yank. The mail gave a little, slipping down to his hips. Okay, good—it was progress. Then I moved my hands to the back and tugging it down there, loosening it a bit more. I returned my hands to the front and gave another hard yank. The mail suddenly slid down farther than I had anticipated, and my fingers slipped from the smooth metal, brushing against something else.

Suddenly Gunther let out a growl—not one of anger, but something involuntary, like it was dragged out from deep inside his chest. Something…intimate. My cheeks flamed up with heat, and I jerked my hand away. I was not sure what exactly my fingers had brushed—but I had a fairly good idea. The chausses were now around his thighs, so figured I had better finish pulling them off quickly.

"And _this_ is why you do not get drunk, you stupid bog weevil. It makes it awkward for the both of us," I mumbled as I quickly slipped the chausses down his legs.

"That was not exactly what I would call _awkward_ ," he said, an amused yet slurred lilt to his voice.

"Now lift one leg," I said, ignoring both his words and the burning of my cheeks in response to them.

He lifted his left leg slightly, and I kicked the chausses out from under him, then managed to get him to raise his other leg. I slipped my foot under the mail and kicked it over near the pile.

"Okay, now you may sit," I told him, talking in the way I used to talk to Princess Lavinia when she was only six.

His legs seemed to give out at my command, and he tumbled down onto the wooden floor in front of his mat. Both of his hands were wrapped around my waist, and I felt myself go down with him. Instead of the hardwood floor I expected, I felt something cushion my fall. When I looked down to see that I had landed in Gunther's lap, I felt my cheeks being lit aflame. Before I could remove myself he leaned forward against me, head resting heavily on my shoulder. The heat in my cheeks spread to my neck, but I consoled myself with the fact that I was nearly done. I just needed to remove one more article of clothing.

My hands quickly moved to his chest, undoing the buttons of his gambeson. Even though we were both sitting, his body still slumped forward against my own, I couldn't see my work and had to rely purely on touch. I only made it halfway down the padded garment before I felt two hands cover my own, stilling them in their work. He dragged both hands up higher, his breathing becoming uneven as my hands ran over his chest. The scratch of linen felt familiar, but the warmth that radiated from his chest—it was unfamiliar.

When he finally stopped I could feel his elevated heartbeat beneath my palms, and it caused my breath to hitch in my throat. Why did he have that effect on me? I yanked my hands away before I could think too much on it and quickly finished undoing the last of his buttons. After I pulled the sleeves from his arms, I laid the last layer aside with his other clothing.

"It is hot in here," he mumbled against my shoulder. I felt him reach up and wrap his hands around my waist, fingers resting lightly on my back. My whole body felt paralyzed, limbs refusing to move. What did he want me to do—remove his shirt?

My cheeks heated up at the thought. There were plenty of sweltering summer nights we spent together while on a mission when he would remove his shirt to keep cool, but the thought of removing his shirt myself felt too…intimate, somehow. I had already been embarrassed far beyond what I should have to endure, and it was all _his_ fault!

"My shirt is too hot," he said, tugging at it as he leaned away, seeming to regain some control over his body. At least he was able to sit up without flopping over.

At the new freedom I reeled back, removing myself from his lap. I should just walk back over to my mat and try and forget this whole night happened, but as I watched him tug uselessly at his shirt, complaining about it all the while, I rolled my eyes heavenward. I would never get any sleep if he kept this up. Would the torture never end?

"Oh, just let me get it." I reached forward and shoved his hands away. Scooting even closer, I yanked the tail end of his shirt out from where he was sitting on it. "You are like a spoiled child," I grumbled, and finally managed to tug the shirt over his head. I tossed it onto the pile next to us.

No sooner had I done that than I felt a pair of firm hands on my shoulders. I didn't have time to process it before they pushed me down, pressing my back against the straw mattress we had been sitting in front of. A shadow passed over me as Gunther rolled over and settled himself between my parted legs, pinning my lower body and trapping me beneath his arms.

"I am no child," he said, his steely gaze boring into mine. His tone was low—almost like a growl—but the slurred speech lessened the overall impact of his tone.

Still, my heart stalled in my chest. Gunther seemed to regain control of his movements, but his slack posture left him lying on top of me. His bare chest was firmly pressed against mine—the only piece of clothing between us was my thin linen undershirt. His lips were dangerously close, and I could see every flicker of emotion in his eyes as he stared down at me.

* * *

 **I'd like to thank _Amelle Kyre_ for beta-reading this and helping me improve it. :)**

 **Historical Facts:**

 **I'm not sure _exactly_ when inns were invented, but we do know inns appeared in England around the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, so they probably wouldn't have been around during Jane's time period. The inn described in this chapter, however, was pretty much what an inn from back in medieval times would have been like and most of the information surrounding inns was taken from the book _The Time Traveler's Guide to Medieval England_. Rooms back then were typically communal, not the private, one-or-two bed rooms we have today, but it could be argued that since it's summer in the story, that business would have been slow, meaning Jane and Gunther very well could have had a room all to themselves. During the time of inns, ****Jane and Gunther, if there was no inn nearby, would probably have easily found lodging at a local monastery or cottage while traveling, given their high status as knights. If nothing else could be found, their last resort would be sleeping a distance away from the main road to avoid getting beaten and robbed by cutthroats and thieves. Sleeping out in the open was _never_ a good idea, though.**

 **If you're not familiar with the clothing/armor mentioned in this chapter, here's a little breakdown of it:**

 **Greaves - A plate of metal that was strapped to the leg to protect it (like King Caradoc wears in the show).**

 **Chainmail/mail - Small, metal rings linked together to form a mesh.**

 **Coif - A mail hood that was worn over a helmet.**

 **Hauberk - A long mail shirt that typically went down to the mid-thighs or lower.**

 **Chausses - mail pants, basically.**

 **Gambeson (sometimes known as a Doublet) - a padded, long-sleeved shirt worn under mail.**

 **Well, that's it for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I felt smothered and claustrophobic and my first instinct was to escape. Hints of panic crept into my bones, but I squashed them down immediately. A knight never panicked under pressure. I had to keep my head about me. Gunther may have me pinned on the floor, but I knew just where to strike to escape from underneath him. He may be stronger than me in the field, but he was drunk right now, and I knew I could overpower him if it came to that. But I didn't want to harm him as a first resort. Sure, he was acting inappropriately, but he was also drunk. He didn't know what he was doing. For all I knew, he might think I was that barmaid from earlier—or some lady from the castle. At that thought I felt a fire kindle in my stomach, though I had no idea why. I shook my head; now was _not_ the time for those thoughts, I had to keep a clear mind.

Right then, I should try and talk my way out of this.

"Agreed, you are not a child. Now get off me," I said, hands placed firmly on his shoulders as I tried to hold him at bay.

"But I like this," he muttered as he leaned forward and buried his nose into my mess of curls. I could feel his hot breath tickle the sensitive spot behind my ear, sending a shudder through my body. "I have wanted you for years."

"I am not who you think I am," I tried to state firmly, but my voice wavered slightly.

"Yes, you are."

"What is my name then?" I snapped.

"Jane Turnkey. First female knight," he whispered, his lips brushing against my throat. The scruff of his unshaven chin prickled my skin, but the contact felt…nice. _Pleasurable._ "Most beautiful woman in Kippernium."

My heart stuttered, and I had to remind myself that he was drunk and therefore, didn't know what he was saying. After all, had he not been the one to call me ugly earlier today? The alcohol was obviously making him delusional, because if he were sober right now he would likely be sick to his stomach. _I_ should be sick to my stomach. Gunther was lying on top of me, after all, kissing me and whispering sweet words into my ear—I should feel repulsed! So why didn't I?

As I told myself this he suddenly shifted on top of me, and I felt a pleasant sort of warmth flood my stomach at the contact. I was burning up, and knew I couldn't blame it entirely on the hot night air. My heart sped faster, and there was a longing deep inside—a longing for something… _more_ , I suppose, though I wasn't sure exactly what.

"Stop," I protested, and scowled in the darkness at the lack of conviction in my voice. It sounded halfhearted at best. There were so many tangled emotions running through my head—coursing through my veins—that I wasn't sure _what_ I was feeling. All I knew was that it was becoming increasingly hard for me to think due to a strange fuzziness settling over my brain.

Gunther should _not_ be able to have this effect on me! The man on top of me was none other than the stubborn beef brain I had known for the past ten years. This was the same man who always had to best me at everything—this was the same man who knew _exactly_ how to push my buttons and drive me insane…so what had changed? Surely not my feelings, but I was at a loss to describe what was happening. He had been limp earlier, but now _I_ felt like a lump of dough in Pepper's kitchen—pliable and defenseless under his hands. My body seemed to turn to pudding when he touched me.

I had to stop this—it was already entirely out of control. He was drunk and my body was betraying me. Even now I felt my legs unconsciously wrap around his waist as he pressed into my hips, sending liquid fire searing up my spine at the movement. I bit down on my lip to hold back the moan longing to escape. I wanted more of that—and yet, I didn't. My brain seemed to be at war with my body.

"This is wrong," I whispered, my voice was a few octaves higher than normal. "We should not be doing this."

He raised his head and cocked it to one side, as if he didn't understand.

"But I want you. Do you want me?" he asked as he leaned down and kissed my jaw line, almost like he was able to read my mind. I gasped at the immediate reaction of my body as my back arched into him. I could feel his deep chuckle against my chest and the hot exhales that danced across the sensitive skin of my jaw. My cheeks heated up in embarrassment. That beef brain was actually _laughing_ at me!

The rush of blood to my cheeks cleared my head just a bit. So, this was a game? Fine, I could fight fire with fire! I reached my arms around him and ran my fingers down his back, nails scraping lightly across his skin. A chuckle was drawn from my lips when I heard a deep moan come from his. A shudder rocked his body, just like he had done to mine only a minute ago.

"How does it feel to have the tables turned?" I muttered as a grin spread across my face. Even now it was a battle between us—both of us fighting for the upper hand. Only it wasn't swords we used as weapons now—it was touch.

"And that is why I love you."

His words ran together in a slur, but I was able to make out what he had said—and it stopped me right in my tracks. My hands stilled where they were and rested lightly on the dip of his back. When he felt me stiffen underneath him he pulled away and stared down at me with a look so intense it made my resolve break down. I felt myself practically melt under his steely gaze, but then another aspect came into focus—the haze that had settled over his features. There was a bleary, unfocused sort of look in his eyes. The fingers that made my body burn were stiff and slow in their movements. His posture was slack—pressing every inch of his body against mine.

Something in my mind clicked.

"Gunther, stop," I pleaded, my voice thick with emotion. I braced my hands against his shoulders and pushed him away, but only slightly.

"I want you," he said, looking down at me with hazy but innocent looking eyes. Far too innocent looking for the current predicament we were in.

"You do not know _what_ you want. You are drunk," I said, keeping my voice level. He cocked his head to one side.

"Am not," he argued, sounding just like a small child. Trying to reason with a drunken Gunther was like trying to reason with a two-year-old—useless. Okay, this obviously was not going to work. I unwrapped both legs from around his waist and gave a heave, rolling him onto his back so that I was on top of him. As I tried to stand, his hands snaked around my hips, holding me in place.

"Always one to best me, are you not, Jane?" he said, his voice sounding strange as his teasing tone mixed with his slurred speech.

"This is _not_ a competition," I snapped back, growing irritated at him.

"It always is with you. Is what I love 'bout you."

"Stop that! _Stop_ saying you love me! You and I cannot stand each other—we fight all the time!" I argued, but even as I said it I felt my body still buzzing from the thrill of his touch. "Until ten minutes ago, you did not even _want_ me."

I may have been on top of him, but the look he gave me in that moment made me feel like I was trapped underneath his gaze.

"Have wanted you for years," he said, snaking a hand around the back of my neck and slowly drawing my head closer. My heart stuttered when I felt his breath fan against my lips. "You do not know how many sleepless nights I was kept awake by thoughts of you."

I closed my eyes as he drew my head closer, but felt a sting of disappointment when his lips landed on the corner of my mouth. A small cry escaped my lips—one not only of frustration, but one of desire. It was in that moment that I realized what my body had been trying to tell me for the past couple of minutes—I _wanted_ him. Badly. This shouldn't be happening—and yet my body couldn't find the strength to fight back, but my mind continued to scream protests at me all the same. We were sworn, as stated by the Knight's Code of Conduct, to protect our fellow knight's honor.

"Do you want me?" he asked once again.

 _Yes, but not like_ this _. Not on a mat in an inn room while you are drunk,_ I wanted to say, but the words were stuck in my throat. Everything right and decent in me screamed that I shouldn't give myself to him until we were married. My heart skipped a beat at that thought. Oh Lord, a few drunken words of passion and now I was contemplating marriage to _Gunther?_ Would he even want to marry me? Was I ready for something like that? We had always been rivals before, and a marriage based purely on passion would surely fizzle out once the flames consumed themselves. Besides, he was drunk. A drunken confession of love was to be taken as seriously as the words of Gunther's merchant father; that is to say, not at all.

"Jane, do you want me?" he repeated.

My eyes fluttered open and I stared into his gray eyes, noting the change in them. There were hints of uncertainty and fear—as if he feared my rejection. And then there was something that broke down any protests I had completely—something I had only caught mere glimpses of before—affection, admiration…love. Surely even a drunk man couldn't fake such a display of emotion. Was it possible that Gunther was drunkenly telling me feelings he had kept hidden while sober? Maybe there was something in him that really _did_ love me.

I had only one question of my own—"Do you truly love me?"

The words left my mouth in a whisper, and I could hear the vulnerability in my own voice. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, leaving me feeling completely exposed and unprotected, but my heart leapt to my throat when he gave his reply.

"I have for years."

After that, there was nothing left in me to resist him. The hands that had intended to push him away turned questioning. I brought my fingers up and trailed them down a toned, muscled chest that came from years of knights training. Then my mouth went willingly to meet his, kissing lips that had once taunted me with cruel words, but now whispered my name into my mouth with the reverence befitting a prayer. I let him push me onto my back and settle himself on top of me.

His damp hair fell in strands around us and tickled my cheeks. The cool moisture was a pleasant contrast to my heated skin, and I tangled a hand in his black locks. I was reduced to pure impulse and instinct—doing what felt right and what made him react. His hands traveled down my arms, nails scraping against my skin as they did. They finally reached the hem of my linen shirt and slipped underneath, running over the untouched skin of my stomach and then back down again towards my hips, leaving a trail of fire.

He pushed forward, hips pressing against my own with a new urgency. The rock of his body and the feel of his fingers digging into my hips earned a moan from my lips. As my mouth opened, he deepened the kiss and suddenly I could taste the alcohol on his tongue. His kiss grew more desperate and forceful, and I responded with equal fervor. Then his hands dipped down to the hem of my linen underpants. As they slipped beneath the fabric and trailed lower, my thoughts were cut off completely. All that made it through to my brain was pleasure and desire. Any remaining clothes were quickly shed.

The next few minutes were a blur of both pain and bliss. My heart beat erratically and I knew we were past the point of no return. I was past the point of trying to stop it. Gunther was surprisingly caring during the whole experience. When I let out a small whimper—tears pooling in my eyes from the pain—he had caressed my cheek with one hand, whispering reassuring words into my ear and gently coaxing me to relax. I had absolutely no experience in this area, and Gunther didn't seem any more experienced than me. He _did_ seem to understand how this worked more than I, though, so I let him lead me for once—let him set the pace.

Gritting my teeth through the pain, it eventually dimmed down enough for pleasure to overtake it. There seemed to be _something_ building deep inside me—some sort of pressure that left me wanting _more_ with every rock of his hips. What that 'more' entailed, I wasn't quite sure, but I was sure it must be something great from the ripples of pleasure that came from it. Then, just when I felt as if I was about to burst, Gunther collapsed on top of me. The heat building inside me sputtered to a stop, and was left with a need so great that it almost brought me to tears. Gunther, however, seemed to be done. His breath came in ragged gasps as he lay limp on top of me, and I could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine against my bare stomach.

I could feel a frown pull at my lips. A distinct sense of dissatisfaction settled in the pit of my stomach, growing by the second. That was _it?_ I had been at the edge of something _wonderful_ , I was sure of it, and yet had been cruelly ripped away before I could reach it. My hands shook from the adrenaline still surging through my veins as I ran a hand down his back, feeling it slick with sweat.

My mind reeled from the experience and was having a hard time coming back down from the high. Eventually Gunther's breathing evened out, and before long a soft snore filled the air, indicating he had fallen asleep. As the minutes passed and the gravity of the situation finally seeped into my mind, panic sprung up and took the place of pleasure.

I had just given myself to Gunther. I had just given what _should_ have been my future husband's to a man whom I couldn't stand most of the time—and who probably wouldn't remember a bit of what had just happened the next morning.

My hands shook, but for quite a different reason this time. I managed to push Gunther off of me and he didn't stir an inch, so I assumed he had passed out. As I scooted away from him, a sudden pain in my crotch shot through me, making me cringe. I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut, determined to hold back the tears threatening to spill. When the pain finally died down to a dull throbbing, I opened my eyes and suddenly noticed the thin stream blood running down my thigh. More of the dark liquid stained the mat we had been lying on, and there was some on Gunther as well.

My eyes widened at the sight of blood. Did I do something wrong—had Gunther done something wrong? Was it normal for there to blood? It didn't seem like something that should be happening. What if it meant something serious? I drew my legs up to my chest and tried to calm the rapid breaths that seemed to leave me even more breathless. My head was spinning and I felt like I was going to have a heart attack.

I bit down on my lip to hold back the cry I wanted to let out, and suddenly noticed how dry and parched my mouth was. Water—I needed _water_.

I scrambled to my feet, trying to make my way over to the travel bag, but my legs buckled underneath me, causing me to collapse onto the floor in a heap. It was no use, my legs felt like they had turned to putty. I scowled in the dark, feeling about as helpless as a baby. _Gunther_ was supposed to be the drunken one here, not me—yet here I was acting like an inebriated fool! After a few more tries, I finally managed to crawl on my hands and knees over to my canteen. Taking a sip of water, I felt my parched mouth find relief. I needed some fresh air to clear my head.

I grabbed my linen undergarments and managed to pull them on with shaking hands. My legs were a bit stronger now, but still wobbled underneath me. Using the wall as support, I slowly stood and made my way outside. As I closed the door behind me I felt a cool breeze brush over my sensitive, flushed skin. I drew in a deep breath, and then let it out—remembering Pepper's breathing exercises from years ago.

I tried to calm my tangled emotions, but one thought kept popping up in my mind no matter how hard I tried to suppress it: what had I just done?

My thoughts turned from myself to Gunther. I was sworn to protect my fellow knight's honor, but instead I had taken it from him. A strangled, hoarse cry escaped my lips before I could stop it. I had dishonored not only myself, but him as well. I had taken advantage of him because, although he had been an active participant, _I_ had been the only one with a clear head. Well, _clearer_. He hadn't been in his right mind, and I had let the situation escalate too far. It was my responsibility to protect him when he couldn't protect himself, and instead I had…I could hardly even think it.

I let out another cry and tangled my fingers in my hair. How could I have let myself go like that? Was I really so weak that a few whispered words and soft touches were all it took to make me _completely_ abandon my morals? Apparently so.

The fog that had settled over my mind was finally dissipating—leaving me with the bleak truth: Gunther didn't love me. How could I have been so dense as to believe he did? Everything he had done and said over the past ten years pointed to the contrary, but because my body had been lusting after his, I had talked myself into believing he meant words spoken in a drunken state. I had never been one to indulge in temptation or vices; I held myself to a strict code of morals. _Gunther_ had always been the one to let his emotions overrule his judgment, not me. How could I have let this happen?

With a heavy conscience, I turned and walked back into the room, heading straight over to my pack. I pulled out a linen cloth and took my clothes off, wiping away the blood. As I glanced over at Gunther, I knew I would have to clean him as well. I couldn't let him know what had happened—no matter how much it broke the Knight's Code of Conduct. I had already broken at least a dozen rules by now.

I was beyond wretched.

Crawling over to his prone form, I began to clean him, and when I was done, managed to pull his underpants back on him. There was still blood on the mat, but nothing could be done about that. I would just have to pray that he didn't notice it. I let out a shaky breath, feeling just the tiniest bit of relief that I had covered up most of the evidence. I put the canteen back where it belonged, and when I turned back to face my companion, my breath hitched in my throat.

The shaft of moonlight had moved, and now rested on Gunther's spot in the room, illuminating his face with a white glow. The angles of his face looked so soft and inviting, while wet clumps of black hair provided a beautiful contrast to his usually tanned skin. Almost against my will, I walked over to him and reached a hand forward, running two fingers over his heated cheek. It was then that I realized it: over the years, without even knowing it, I had fallen in love with Gunther Breech.

And I had just given myself to him…while he was drunk.

God help me.

* * *

 **As always, thanks to Amelle Kyre for her awesome help with this chapter! :)**

 **Well, no historical facts this time. I couldn't really find any that were relevant to this chapter, so here you go! There will be some in the next chapter, though. Instead, I'll just tell you about another story I have up: _Alliances_. If you'd like to read a story about what would happen if Kippernium decided to make an alliance with the Vikings (the ones from _How To Train Your Dragon_ in particular) instead of uniting with Northumbria to fight against them, look no further! I'll be posting Chapter 8 soon, so feel free to check it out. I'm not sure how many people read the end notes for _Understanding,_ so I thought I'd give it a mention.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It was not until the next morning that Gunther finally awoke.

I spent half the night tossing and turning in my sleep, trying to ignore the soreness between my legs, and then spent most of the morning swinging between two extremes—burning anger at both myself and Gunther, and crushing guilt, over both my actions the previous night, and the anger I felt towards him.

Even as the tumultuous thoughts raged through my mind, my eyes stayed glued on Gunther's form. Panic had faded only enough to allow fear in. The full gravity of the situation was crashing down on me. What if Gunther remembered what happened the previous night? It was doubtful, given how drunk he was, but there was still the possibility. Even if he didn't remember, it might come to him in fragments; he might figure it out. I wasn't sure how he would respond if he _did_ piece it together. He would be disgusted, outraged, to be sure, but what would he do about it? Did he feel enough animosity towards me to tell Sir Theodore of my transgression—to tell the King? He certainly had every right to do so.

My heart skipped a beat and I felt icy fear race down my spine. For a crime like this there would be dire consequences. I would lose my Knighthood for sure, and my parents might disown me out of shame. The punishment for a peasant girl living out in a rural community would be decidedly different from the punishment of a high ranking noblewoman living inside the castle walls.

Fornication in and of itself was a serious sin, but adding to the fact that I had bedded a man who could not consent to it with a clear mind…well, I could very well be banished from the kingdom for it. If not, there was sure to be serious punishment. I had heard of faraway places where women were stoned for such a crime, but knew that the King did not sentence his people to death for anything below treason or murder. No, I would be punished harshly, but I would live. The priest would surely make me confess publically and then give me years of penance. After that, I would spend my remaining years in a convent. My life would be over.

I felt my hands ball into fists and closed my eyes, turning my head away. I had worked _too_ hard for too many years to have it all end like this—all because of one mistake. That was why I would do everything in my power to keep anyone from finding out. I just had to pray to God that Gunther wouldn't remember a thing. After that, I could move on and pretend it never happened.

I once again opened my eyes to see Gunther lying there, and felt that familiar spark of desire flame up inside me as I gazed at him. I could still taste his mouth and feel his fingers on my skin. I could still remember the way his nails scraped against my bare skin and the way he dug his fingers into my hips.

 _Stop it!_ I scolded myself.

But no matter how I yelled at myself, the feelings were there to stay. I doubted they were going to go away anytime soon. One question haunted me, though: how had I fallen for him—and when? It all seemed so sudden, and yet, now that I reflected on it, there had been clues: that irrational anger I felt when other women were interested in him; the small sparks of desire I tried to pass off as competitiveness when we spared.

For those few moments we were together last night it felt like we were once again in the training yard—sword against sword with no intention of going easy on each other. Some of my fondest memories were of sparring with Gunther in the arena, and now I realized exactly why that was. It was not because I relished besting him—although I _did_ enjoy that—but it was because I _liked_ when he challenged me; it pushed me to work harder—to be the best I could be. He didn't just give me the satisfaction of winning easily, he made me _work_ for it, which only made it all that much sweeter when I finally got it. We sort of fed off each other, he and I. Gunther pushed me to my breaking point in the training yard, while I pushed him to do the right thing and live up to the Knight's Code of Conduct. So maybe it was something that had always been there, a sort of rivalry between us that ran deeper than that. Whatever it was, it sent adrenaline through my veins like sparks of fire, and pushed me to work harder. It was wild and untamable—it was purely _us_. Strange how the lines between love and hate could be so blurred that I crossed them without even realizing it.

A sudden moan stirred me from my thoughts, and my eyes widened as Gunther began to stir. My heart leapt to my throat, and I half expected him to start yelling at me about what I had done to him last night. I watched with baited breath as Gunther opened his own eyes, steely gaze staring blearily back into mine. When he tried to move, his brows furrowed in pain and he grit his teeth.

"Everything hurts," he muttered so low I almost did not catch it.

I held back a snort. _You think_ you _are feeling hurt? My legs throb and my most intimate parts are sore_ , I thought bitterly, but all that came out was, "Serves you right."

At my words I was suddenly reminded of what I had done the previous night: I had taken advantage of him. I had used him for my own selfish desires…and I was about to lie to him about it to protect my own skin. The least I could do after that was make an effort to be nicer to him.

"Here, let me help," I said, moving over to help him sit. As soon as my hand touched his skin, scenes from last night flashed through my mind. I could feel my body heating up at the thoughts that raced through my mind. I jerked my hand away and let out a shaky breath. Even hung-over, Gunther noticed this.

He raised a hand to his head as he squinted at me. "What is wrong?"

"Other than the fact that my partner is a stupid bog weevil who got drunk after I specifically told him not to?" I snapped before I could help it, and then cursed myself. After years of shooting back insults, I found it hard to stop. "Nothing is wrong."

Touching him set my body on fire. I needed space. Standing, I walked over to my pack and pulled out the canteen, then walked back over and handed it to him, ignoring the way my heart leapt when our fingers brushed. He took a small sip. When he was done I put it back in my pack. Leaving would obviously have to wait until Gunther was in a shape fit for travel. The hangover would probably last for a few more hours. If he recovered by noon or early-afternoon we could set out and find a spot to sleep on the road. If not, we would be forced to spend another night here—and be delayed another day. Traveling at night was too dangerous.

"From now on, you are not to drink on missions," I stated firmly.

"Agreed," he said, though I knew he was only saying it because of how terrible he felt this morning.

For a while it was quiet, and Gunther drifted back to sleep. As he slept I thought about what would happen once we got back. Things could never be the same again—not with the memories of last night seared into my mind. How was I supposed to work alongside Gunther when it was all I thought about? Even a single glance at him brought the memories to the surface. How could I spar with him after this? How could I sleep in close quarters while on missions? How could I ever look at him the same way?

The truth was, I could not. And that was what worried me the most.

A compromised knight was a danger to both her fellow knights and her King. I needed to be alert at all times—not distracted by any feelings I might have for my partner. Not only were there new feelings—or rather, newly _discovered_ feelings—but there was a sickening guilt that had settled in the pit of my stomach. Gunther obviously did not remember last night, but _I_ did.

The knowledge of what happened and what I had done to him would always remain with me—haunting me like a ghost.

* * *

Gunther slept for a few more hours before waking up shortly after noon. He claimed he felt well enough to travel, so we decided to have a brief meal in our room before dressing in our armor and setting off.

The silence in the room was tangible, but I did not dare say anything out of fear it would either be an insult, or a slip of the tongue that might betray me and make him suspicious about last night. So we ate in silence, while I looked at nearly _everything_ in the room except Gunther. I was making all sorts of excuses to avoid eye contact—so how in the world would I be able to spar with him in the training yard once we returned and resumed our normal duties? What would I do when we had to practice our hand-to-hand combat and were forced to touch each other? Even the thought of it brought heat to my cheeks.

Once our meal was finished, we began to put on our armor. As I was buttoning up my gambeson I heard Gunther ask, "Hey, what is _that?_ "

My eyes snapped up to see him standing next to his mat, looking down at it. I followed his gaze and felt my blood freeze when I saw the incriminating red stain of blood. His gray eyes snapped up to meet mine. "What happened last night? Why is there blood on my mat?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but it had gone dry. My mind spun into a panic, and I mentally cursed myself. If I hadn't been so caught in my panic and fear last night, I might have been able to come up with a plausible story, but now I had to think of one on the spot.

"I assume you got in a fight at the tavern last night," I finally said, the lie leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Still, it was better than Gunther finding out what had _really_ happened. "You came back to the room with a bloody nose and I had to tend to it."

I could feel my hands shaking as he stared into my eyes, but after a moment or two he seemed to accept it. He returned his gaze to the hauberk he had just started to pull over his head, while I let out a silent sigh of relief, glad he hadn't decided to question my story. However, a moment later, he asked,

"Did anything… _else_ happen last night? Did I say or do anything else?" he asked as he stooped to dig around in his pack.

My breath hitched in my throat, and I felt my hands shake as they finished buttoning up my armor. Oh Good Lord, he didn't remember anything, did he? I took a deep breath and tried to calm my fried nerves. Surely he would have said something by now if he _had_ remembered. Even if he suspected, surely he would have asked a more direct question. I studied his posture and saw that although it appeared to be casual, his hands were stiff and his body had gone rigid. When he finally pulled out the padding that went under his coif and stood, there was apprehension in his eyes. Fear slowly unfurled in the pit of my stomach.

"No. You came back to the room bleeding, and after I tended to your nose, you passed out."

He seemed to visibly relax at my words, and as he did, so did I. If there had been any suspicions in his mind, they were gone now. I tried to ignore the guilt that crashed over me when I realized just how much I didn't deserve such trust.

Once dressed, we walked to the stables out back and retrieved our horses from the boy who tended to them. As I hooked one foot in the stirrup, ready to swing myself up in the saddle, I became even more aware of the soreness between my legs…and just how much worse it would be once I had a hard leather saddle settled between them—no matter how much padding I wore. I grimaced, but quickly wiped the expression off my face before Gunther could see. Gritting my teeth against the pain I was sure would come, I hopped up and swung one leg over. As I settled down on the seat, a sharp sting traveled up my spine, starting from my crotch. I ground my teeth and waited for the pain to die down. After a moment or two it faded to a throbbing, and I pushed the pain to the back of my mind as I grabbed the reigns and followed Gunther out of the stables. As we traveled along, movement from the horse beneath me sent unpleasant—almost painful—jolts up my spine. Was this normal—for there to be so much soreness?

We took no breaks to make up for lost time, so by the time we stopped for the night, I was light-headed with pain. As I pulled my horse to a stop under a tree, I could finally let out a breath of relief, but as soon as I moved my leg to swing down, a burst of pain flared up. I froze in the saddle and moved my leg back to its original position as I bit down on my lip to hold back the cry, but a small moan still escaped. And unfortunately, Gunther heard it.

His gray eyes snapped over to me and I could see hints of concern. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I bit out, waiting for the pain to dull down so I could try again.

"Here, let me help you," he said, walking over to me with arms extended.

I felt my heart jump at the thought of him touching me again, and leaned away. When he reached me I pushed his arms away as he tried to lift me from the horse. "I am perfectly capable of dismounting by myself; I do not need your help!"

"Why can you not just accept help?"

"Because I do not need it! Would you insist of helping me if I were a man?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, sending me a scowl. "I would help anyone if they were clearly in pain—which you are."

"I am merely sore from riding all day," I lied. "I am fine."

But he ignored my protests and reached up just as I lifted my leg to swing down. At the feel of his hands on my waist, I jumped—causing me to lose my balance. I pitched sideways and Gunther was knocked off balance from the force, hands still locked around me. The next thing I knew, we were on the ground. When the shock from the impact dulled, I looked down to see myself lying on top of Gunther, his arms still locked firmly on my hips. Our lips were inches apart, and scenes from last night flashed across my mind—heating up my whole body. His eyes were wide as he gazed up at me. I tried to rush to my feet, but one foot was caught underneath his leg, and I only flopped back down, bringing my face even closer to his.

"Let go of me, you stupid bog weevil!" I snapped, trying to yank my leg free. A hiss of pain escaped from his clenched teeth as gray eyes narrowed.

"Would you stop struggling? You are going to hurt both of us," he muttered, letting out a string of curses as he tried to unhook his leg from my foot.

Our limbs were a tangled mess, and my hands were pressed up against his chest—trying to push myself as far away from him as possible. Finally I managed to free my foot and scrambled to my feet, recoiling from the scene. My face felt as hot as a fire, and I only hoped he would blame it on the heat if he saw how red it was.

"See what you did?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest. He sat up, eyes narrowing dangerously at me.

"Me?! I was trying to _help_!"

"I do not need your kind of _help!_ How about you start treating me like a fellow knight instead of some damsel-in-distress?"

He rolled his eyes as he stood, brushing the dust from his armor. "Oh for goodness sake, Jane, why does it always have to be about gender with you? Do you not think me capable of helping you _just_ because you are my partner and in need of help?"

"You have always looked down on me because of my gender, why should this be any different?" I said, and immediately regretted my words.

That wasn't entirely true—and I knew it. He may have looked down upon me at first—maybe the first few of years of my knight apprenticeship—but he eventually got over the fact that I was a woman _and_ a knight. He began treating me like a fellow comrade. Oh, sure, he and I still bickered, and when we did he would make his remarks about me being a female—like his snide comment just yesterday about how I was never satisfied and how that was _just_ like a woman—but he treated me equally when it came down to it. I wasn't sure what made him change his mind—maybe it was the sound beatings I gave him in the training yard, or perhaps he finally accepted the fact that I was determined to be a knight and nothing was going to stop me. Whatever it was, he hadn't treated me like some damsel-in-distress in years, and whenever he offered help, it was help he would have extended to any fellow knight. This wasn't about gender; this was about the fact that I couldn't bear having him touch me.

Gunther let out a disgusted noise, obviously catching my lie. "Do not try that, I treat you equally—same as I would any other knight! You have never been this…this _haughty_ about accepting my help before, so what _is_ your problem?"

I cursed silently at my feeble excuse. What answer could I give him? I couldn't tell him the truth about why I was so flustered and annoyed—but my brain wasn't able to come up with any other explanation either. At my silence Gunther's eyes narrowed slightly in concentration.

"I said something last night about you being a girl knight." He said it as a statement, but I could hear the silent question in his words. That was as good an excuse as any, and I was willing to take it. When I didn't answer, he let out a sigh. "Look, Jane, whatever I said or did last night, I did not mean."

 _I know, why do you think I do not want you touching me?_ I wanted to yell at him, but I couldn't. It felt like a stave had hit my chest—knocking the air right out of me. Gunther didn't even have to remember last night to know he had done something he never would have done sober.

No matter what, he couldn't know what had happened.

* * *

I stared at Jane, wondering what I could have said to make her react like this. When I watched her eyes glaze over with tears, I knew it must have been something terrible. But she didn't cry—she never _let_ herself cry, she thought herself too strong for such emotions. I made a vow to myself then—I would never touch another drop of alcohol for as long as I lived. Jane had been hurt by my words, and I would never consciously do anything that would hurt her. Teasing her was one thing, but this was something else entirely.

How could I have been such an idiot? Why did I drink so much last night? I couldn't even remember how many drinks I had; it was all a big, blurry mess. The last thing I remembered was stumbling up the stairs to our room. All I could do was try and find out what had happened and then try my hardest to make amends for whatever stupid things I had done.

When she blinked the look was gone, replaced by a slightly irritated, but indifferent gaze. "It does not matter what you said," she said. "Just stop trying to help me, I do not need it."

I glared at her, stepping forward and grabbing her arm as she turned to walk away. "Tell me what I said last night."

She gave me a cold look, yanking her arm back. "If you had the good sense not to get drunk, you would be able to remember what you said. You would not have said it in the first place."

"So you admit I _did_ say something last night."

Her eyes widened just enough for me to notice. Her little slip of the tongue revealed that more had happened last night than what she told me.

"Stop twisting my words," she hissed.

She was deliberately avoiding the question. Could it really have been so terrible? Earlier this morning my biggest fear was that I had drunkenly told her that I was in love with her, or at least something confirming my feelings. I never thought I might have said something else. I hadn't been bothered by Jane's gender for years—unless one counted the number of times I had been distracted by it—so what could I have possibly said? If I knew one thing of drunkenness, it was that it made you say things you would never say while sober.

"Jane—" I began, reaching out towards her, but she stumbled away, out of my reach. I finally realized that ever since this morning, she had been actively avoiding contact with me. She nearly jumped out of the saddle when I touched her. I thought it was because she didn't want me helping her, but now a disturbing thought took hold: what if it wasn't that at all? What if I had tried to hurt her while I was drunk?

This morning when I asked about the blood on my mat, she said I'd gotten into a fight at the tavern that left me with a bloody nose. But how could she know that unless she went down to the tavern? I could just as easily have run into a wall and given myself a bloody nose by accident, so how could she be so certain? But all that was beside the point. The real hole in her story hadn't come to me until an hour or two ago: if I had a bloody nose how come my nose felt perfectly fine? There was no dried blood on my face, no swelling—not even a little bit of soreness to indicate something had happened to it last night. I'd had a few bloody noses in my lifetime, and the day after was always the worst. I usually ended up with a nasty bruise covering my nose, along with a fair amount of pain and swelling that made it difficult to breath. Earlier when I touched my nose there wasn't even the least amount of tenderness. Other than the nasty hangover I had this morning, I felt perfectly fine. Her story didn't add up.

What if I had come back to the room and tried to hurt her? What if _that_ was why there was blood on the mat? Jane knew how to defend herself well enough, but I was still stronger than her. What if the blood on the mat had been hers? That would explain why she was so skittish about me touching her.

"Did I try to hurt you last night?" I asked, desperation and fear lacing my voice. When she stayed silent I felt my temper rise. "Answer me, Jane! Did I hurt you last night? Was that blood on the mat _yours?_ "

She gave me a cold look, green eyes snapping up to meet mine. "Of course not—I _told_ you what happened! You came back to the room with a bloody nose, I cleaned you up, and then you passed out. That is _it._ "

"Then how come my nose feels fine? How come there is not even a hint of tenderness?"

All I knew was that something had happened last night…something she wasn't telling me, and I _would_ find out what it was.

* * *

 **So, I was going to post this on Friday, but...well, I just really wanted to post it now. So here you are! Now, onto the history:**

 **Back in Jane's time, the penance for fornication was between seven to ten years—and penance usually included things like fasting, almsgiving (giving money to the poor), flagellation (whipping yourself on the back), and other harsh punishments. They were very creative with it, sometimes.**

 **I've done a lot of research for this story, but there have been so many conflicting reports (so much so that I gave myself a few headaches) about _when_ exactly private confession displaced public confession. For the most part, Catholic writers say confession/penance has _always_ been private, but historical records show that this was definitely _not_ the case (especially in the early church days), so it makes me question just how credible they are. Some scholars believe that private confession began to overtake public confession around the 6th and 7th centuries, while other sources say that private confession didn't come into prominence until the 7th and 8th centuries, and some even say that it didn't become universal until later in the Middle Ages. But we know that both King Henry II (12th century) and Lady Cecilia de Stanton (13th century) were both made to do public confession and penance for sins that became a public scandal.**

 **I'm inclined to believe it was usually private, except in cases like adultery, murder, fornication, heresy, and such, where they would make them confess publically and do public penance to not only make an example, but to deter the person from committing the same sin over and over again. We know that before Jane's time, public penance for mortal sins was only allowed to be done once in a lifetime (they thought if you committed the sin again you weren't really sorry the first time and after that forgiveness was not able to be obtained), so in response, most people waited until near the end of their life to do that, which lead to many people dying before they could. After a while the Church got rid of that idea. By Jane's time, people were allowed to come again and again for confession and penance, even for big, mortal sins (though this was looked down upon and even condemned by some Church leaders).**

 **So without any definitive proof, (and keeping in mind this is set in the fictional kingdom of Kippernium, where liberties can be taken) we'll just make the safe assumption that confession to a priest is not in Jane's best interest if she wants to keep it a secret. I know that at points in medieval history, priests were required by law to report some sins as crimes to local authorities (adultery, fornication, murder). This will all come up more in later chapters. So...I'm pretty sure these facts are true, just don't quote me on them. Like I said, I've done a ton of research, but I swear that nearly every site says something different.**

 **Anyway, that wraps up this chapters facts. Congratulations if you made it through all that! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Before Gunther could question me further, I turned to my horse, grabbed my saddle bag, and walked over to a large, shady tree. Why did he have to ask so many questions? Why couldn't he just accept what I had told him? Even as I threw my pack to the ground beneath the tree in frustration, I already knew the answer. If _I_ had been the one to get drunk and Gunther was the only one who knew what had happened—and if I had detected even the _slightest_ amount of untruth in his words—I would have pestered him endlessly about it until I found out the truth. Gunther could be just as stubborn as me when he wanted.

I hated keeping up this web of lies, but what other option did I have? If I didn't keep him in the dark, I could lose my knighthood, my freedom…everything I held dear. The only option was to think of a cover story. He believed that he'd said something about my gender, and that he'd tried to hurt me, so why not give him a story that included both? I felt resentment for myself bubble up in the pit of my stomach. Not only would I be lying to Gunther, but I would be placing blame and guilt on him for something he never did. He should be yelling and screaming at me for the terrible thing I had done to him, and yet I would be making him feel guilty.

Gunther joined me a moment later, but before he could speak I grabbed my canteen and stood. "I am going to find a stream to wash off and fill the canteen. I will be back shortly."

Without waiting for a reply, I walked away. With no other ideas and Gunther's questions only increasing, I had to think of a story fast, no matter how wrong it was. Following the faint sound of rushing water, I came upon a stream and stooped down to fill the canteen, watching as the water flowed in. Once it was full I placed it aside and began to undress.

After days of traveling—and the events of last night—I dearly needed a wash. As I removed my linen underpants, ready to place them next to my armor, I noticed a stain on the inside. I stared at the bright red spotting of blood as fear began to course through my veins. I clutched a hand to my stomach as a wave of sickness washed over me. This shouldn't be happening. Why was I still bleeding? My last monthly bleeding had been nearly two weeks ago, so I knew it couldn't be that. What was wrong with my body?

With a shaking hand, I dropped the linen undergarment on top of the others, then looked down at the hand still wrapped across my middle. As I stared down at my flat stomach, a horrible thought suddenly occurred to me—something that should have occurred to me right after I slept with Gunther. It made me feel stupid for not having thought of it sooner: what if I was pregnant?

That single thought made my knees buckle beneath me, and I sunk to the ground—a mix of fear and the numbness that accompanied such powerful emotions sweeping over me. I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me, and I wrapped both hands around my middle as I gasped for air. _No, no, no, it cannot be true,_ I thought to myself, all rational thought temporarily fleeing from my mind. If I was pregnant then it didn't matter whether or not Gunther remembered—my life was over. If my worst fear came true, then sooner or later I would start showing, and even if the identity of the father was never discovered, I would lose everything simply because of my flagrant disregard of everything knights stood for—truth, honor, integrity. Was there a single rule I _hadn't_ broken? A child born out of wedlock, and of unknown origin, would cause me to lose my knighthood and get me sent to the convent. I stared down at my stomach as tears began to blur my vision, wondering if new life had already begun to take up residence there. My heart pounded painfully in my chest and I had to squeeze my eyes shut as I bent over, trying to calm myself.

I had made many mistakes in my twenty-two years on this earth…but this was the one that would define me—the one I couldn't make right. Even if I wasn't pregnant and I was able to keep Gunther from finding out, I would still be living a lie for the rest of my life. That guilt would settle in my stomach and simmer—growing day by day. _Just like a baby,_ a thought whispered in my mind. I immediately dismissed it, trying to focus on the positive: Gunther and I had only been together _once_. The chances that I would end up pregnant had to be slim, if not nonexistent. Surely it must take more than one time to end up pregnant. It _had_ to…or else I would be totally destroyed. Still, the lingering possibility, no matter how small it was, hung over my head like a rain cloud.

 _It is of no use thinking about it, you will not know for sure until a few weeks from now, so put it out of your mind right now!_ I told myself. Pepper had been pregnant three times in the past five years of her marriage to Rake, and each time it had been some time before she realized it, she had told me so herself. So if I _was_ pregnant, then I wouldn't know for a while. Somehow, that thought filled me with dread. Weeks of waiting and guessing and worrying…

There would be symptoms to look for, though I wasn't quite sure what they were. I knew of only one—nausea, since I had been sent to help Pepper when the strong smell of cooked food made her sick to her stomach. Other than that, I had taken no notice of the other signs, and Pepper had not shared them with me. Pregnancy was a private, intimate affair, not one meant to be put on display for all to see. There was no use worrying about it when I would not know for weeks to come. Besides, the odds had to be slim. Still, the possibility of having my secret exposed was enough to bring me to tears. Not only would I be exposed, but I would have a child to deal with.

 _No, you cannot think like this!_ I scolded myself. _You do not know whether or not you are pregnant, so it is useless to worry about it. You have more pressing matters to deal with, like what you will tell Gunther._

I stood and waded out into the stream, letting the cool waters chase away all other thoughts as I pondered on my cover story. My hands reached down to cup the water and then let it trickle down my skin. Even the refreshing bath did little to wash away the guilt and fear that seemed to cling to me ever since last night. After I had washed myself, I climbed out and dressed, all the while concocting a plausible story.

I could no longer claim the blood on the mat was Gunther's. My story had been sloppy and full of holes, but he had given me the perfect solution. He believed the blood to be mine, so all I had to do was…

I cringed when I realized the only route available to me. Slowly pushing up the chainmail sleeve, and then rolling up the sleeve of my linen undershirt, I stared down at my unblemished skin. I drew a dagger from my belt and pressed the tip to the inside of my arm. Before I could think twice about it I gently sliced my skin and then bit down on my lip to hold back the cry of pain. The dagger fell to the ground while I watched blood pool and then trail down my arm. It was a clean cut, and not very deep. Perfectly safe…and yet the pain was another matter.

I walked back over to the stream and washed away the crimson liquid, then washed off the evidence from my dagger before sheathing it. How had it come to this? A week ago the thought of telling a lie would have appalled me, but now…now I was thinking up wild stories, harming myself to cover up suspicion, and lying through my teeth to save myself. What had I become?

I waited an hour so the wound wouldn't look fresh, then rolled down my sleeves, strapped my belt to my waist, and brushed the dirt off my armor. On my walk back to the campsite I went over in my head what I would say. As I grew nearer I kept glancing down at my covered stomach, the anxiety in me growing by the second. I could confess it all now—could tell Gunther what happened last night and hope he had mercy in his heart for me. Perhaps he would marry me, seeing it as the right thing to do. If we were married and I was found to be pregnant, nobody would think twice. If we could be married within a month or less, and _if_ a babe came, we could always claim the child was born early. All I had to do was tell Gunther, marry him, and I would be able to keep my knighthood, my freedom…my honor would be restored.

 _But why would he marry me?_ I thought bitterly. _Because of a few drunken words he neither meant, nor remembered?_ If I was correct about his feelings towards me—and I was certain I _was_ —than there was no hope for such an outcome. Why should he tie himself down to a woman who took advantage of him? Besides, I wasn't the type of woman to try and trap a man into marriage. If I married Gunther, I would want him to marry me because he loved me—not out of some obligation.

I kicked at a clump of rocks, cursing under my breath. Why did he have to go and get drunk in the first place? If he hadn't, I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't have slept with him, wouldn't have realized my feelings for him, and everything would have been fine. Things could have continued how they were before…but now everything was messed up and it could never be the same.

Suddenly the thought ran through my head again: why _had_ he gotten drunk? He said before he walked into the tavern that he only wanted to buy a drink. What had happened to make him change his mind? Was something bothering him? I remembered asking Gunther why he was acting so strange the whole trip earlier that day. He had been silent for nearly the whole time we'd had been traveling, and it was so unlike him. Whatever it was, it must have been the reason for his drinking.

I came upon the makeshift campsite to see that our saddlebags had been unpacked. Both horses were tied to a thick branch and happily grazing on the grass nearby. In my absence Gunther had erected a makeshift shelter against the tree with blankets spread underneath it for sleeping. In front of it was a small fire with a spit over it—roasting over the flames was fresh meat. As I caught sight of Gunther crouched in front of a small fire, turning the wooden stick, the desire to spill my secret was nearly overwhelming. All my doubts seemed to fade.

Surely it would be better to tell him _now_ and risk the consequences, than to be caught in a lie months from now should there be a child involved. I had been taught that the best course of action was to tell the truth, even when it was hard. Right now, it proved more difficult than ever before. Gunther glanced up as I approached and stood.

"I caught a wild rabbit for dinner," he said, gesturing towards the roasting meat. I saw a bloodied arrow lying next to a bow and quiver on the ground.

"I…I will tell you what happened last night," I began, feeling my knees tremble beneath me. At these words his eyes hardened.

"I do not appreciate being lied to, Jane. Whatever it is, I can accept it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. My hands felt clammy and cold.

"Yes, well the truth is…" Fear nearly choked the words, and I felt my hands begin to shake. "You returned rambling about how terrible it was to have a woman as your partner…about how the other knights looked down on you because of it."

The lie came out of my mouth as if by its own accord. I couldn't tell him the truth; I just couldn't. Gunther's eyes widened slightly at my words, as if surprised by them. Alarm had set in as well. Before he could speak, I continued with my fabricated tale, "I told you that others would look down on you no matter who your partner was, given your dishonorable character." Gunther's jaw tightened and his gray eyes narrowed at the insult. "You grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back, then you drew your sword." I watched the horror fill his eyes and felt an overwhelming guilt settle over me. "I do not think you _truly_ meant to harm me, since you were simply waving your sword around like an idiot, so I…I grabbed the flat end of the blade to try and get you to stop, but you…the blade hit my arm." I paused and pulled up my sleeve, revealing the scar I had given myself. It still looked fresh, but not enough to arouse much suspicion. "I managed to wrestle the sword away from you. After that you passed out."

It was a plausible story, given how much Gunther and I insulted each other, that we would argue over something like that. It was disheartening how easily the lie came to me, and how easy it was to tell it convincingly. Gunther's previously cold expression had softened. Steely eyes shone with regret as he took a step forward, stopping only a few inches away from me.

"Jane, I am sorry for what I said and did. You must believe that I would never intentionally harm you."

As I looked into his eyes, and saw the sincerity in them, I knew this was one of those rare moments in which Gunther and I actually got along—when we would show our genuine concern for each other. They were few and far between, but when it came down to it, we were fellow knights who relied on each other out in the field. No matter our arguments, it had built a bond between us. Not necessarily one of friendship, but something that made us look out for each other. It almost made me want to tell him the truth, but I had already lied. The deed was done.

"I know," I replied, looking away and wishing we could drop the subject. "And I did not mean what I said about your character. Now let us forget it ever happened."

A smile began to pull at his lips, but he quickly wiped it away and turned to walk back to the fire. Now was the opportunity to get some answers to my own about lingering questions. "Now that I have answered your question, answer one of mine: why did you get drunk?"

He stopped and let out a snort, turning to face me with an irritated look on his face. "Right, as if I planned on it."

"You must have known how much you were drinking, Gunther. Nobody forced you to buy those drinks. You even said before you walked in that you would _not_ get drunk. Why did you?"

A long, exasperate breath escaped his lips. "I had a lot on my mind, all right?"

It was as I suspected—whatever had caused him to drink was what had been bothering him earlier. Still, he had not revealed what _exactly_ it was that had been bothering him. I narrowed my eyes. "That is not an answer."

"Yes, it is."

"Not a proper one."

"It is the only one you will get," he shot back before stalking over to the fire and crouching down to turn the spit of meat. I followed him and sat down on the blankets, drawing my knees up to my chest. When the meat was done, he carved out a piece and handed it to me. I set the full canteen between us and we ate our meal in silence.

* * *

At first light we set off for home, traveling faster and taking far fewer breaks to make up for the time we lost yesterday due to Gunther. The pain from yesterday had dulled significantly, but I was still worried about the blood. When I got home I would have to check and make sure there was no more.

We finally arrived home in the evening. The sight of Kippernium—of _home_ —after being gone for so long nearly brought tears to my eyes. After everything I had gone though in the past two days alone, home was a welcome relief, but I held my chin high and forced myself to concentrate on my task. As we approached the gates, a guard called out our arrival and Sir Theodore and Sir Ivon came out to greet us. We were escorted immediately to King Caradoc, who was glad to hear of the favorable reply from King Eanred.

I watched as he unrolled the scroll and read over the contents. When he was finished he rolled it up and turned his eyes to Gunther and I. "King Eanred says that he wishes to see Dragon for himself, but that he accepts the terms of our alliance nonetheless." King Caradoc tilted his chin up and motioned for my father to step forward. "Chamberlain, please write down my response and make ready the official treaty."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said, taking the scroll from the King's outstretched hand. Once he was gone, he turned his gaze back to us.

"I will have you deliver the official treaty as soon as possible, and I will have you fly there on Dragon. It will make the trip much faster, I am sure."

"Both of us, Your Majesty, on Dragon?" I asked, feeling my body freeze in a panic.

He paused and gave me a questioning look. "Yes. Dragon _can_ carry two knights, can he not?"

 _Yes, but he will not like it. Especially since it is Gunther,_ I thought to myself. And I wouldn't like it either. The thought of having Gunther riding right behind me—hands wrapped around my waist to keep himself steady, chest pressed against my back…it made my cheeks heat up at the thought.

"Yes."

"Then it shall not be a problem," he said dismissively, then continued, "After you have delivered the treaty and my message, you will escort the King and his party back here for the official signing."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I said, and Gunther echoed my sentiment. "When shall we leave?"

"I will give you the remainder of today and tomorrow to rest and prepare for the trip." His serious expression turned into a smile. "Well done—both of you."

* * *

 **A big thanks to my beta-reader _Amelle Kyre_ for reading over this (and the latter half of the previous chapter) twice and helping me make it better!**

 **Historical facts: To most people, it seems common knowledge not to grab the business end of a sword, right? But back in the middle ages there was a sword technique invented called _half-swording_. It's was a technique where a knight gripped the blade of his sword and swung the other end to deliver more powerful and accurate thrusts. This was developed in response to the rise of plated armor, which made it became harder and harder to kill or injure an opponent due to all the protection he wore. This was believed to have developed in the 14th century, long after Jane's time, but I know in this chapter, some of you might have paused when you read Jane telling Gunther that she'd grabbed the blade of his sword and asked yourself, "Wait, but then wouldn't Gunther ask why she didn't have a cut on her hand?" This technique didn't exist then, but the point is, there are definitely ways to grip the blade of a sword without cutting yourself, and Jane would have known this. If you're looking for a demonstration of this technique, _Skallagrim_ on Youtube has an excellent video on it.**

 **Next chapter should be a bit different, with more focus on the other characters, rather than just on Jane and Gunther. Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and left a comment! Hope you enjoyed the update! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

After our audience with King Caradoc we were allowed to go and rest. I didn't feel like sleeping after everything that had happened, so I went to my room and changed into more comfortable clothes before setting off for the kitchen. I wasn't ready to be alone with my thoughts, so visiting Pepper seemed like a good choice. As soon as I entered the kitchen, the scent of baked bread and simmering soup filled my nose—making me realize just how much I had missed home while away. The quiet didn't last for long, though. As soon as Pepper caught sight of me she let out a small sound of delight and ran over, enveloping me in a hug. All the breath rushed out of me, but I still returned the hug as best as I could. For someone who spent her days stirring soup and baking pies, she was surprisingly strong. A moment later she leaned back and pushed a stray piece of dark brown hair behind one ear, surveying my appearance.

"Oh, Jane it is so good to see you! How was your trip? Did the King agree to the alliance? I hope he did, it would be terrible to think that those Viking raids could continue," she said all in one breath, and then her eyes widened, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, I am so sorry, you must be hungry! Would you like some soup, or maybe a slice of bread—?"

I smiled, before holding up a hand to silence her, realizing just how much I had missed _her_ while I was away. "No, thank you, Pepper, I am fine. And yes, the King agreed to the alliance, as we expected."

"That is good to hear, but you still have not told me how the trip went," she said, waving a wooden spoon at me with a grin. My smile faded, and it didn't escape Pepper's notice. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion, and concern appeared in her gray eyes. "Is something wrong, Petal?"

I forced a smile back onto my face. "No, nothing is wrong, I am just a little tired is all. Have you seen Dragon? He has not pestered me once since I arrived." I tried to manage a teasing laugh, but it fell flat.

Pepper ignored my question and took a step closer. "Did something happen during the trip?"

I felt my expression waver. Pepper had always been perceptive, and it had only grown during recent years. Having four children had only seemed to increase her sense of awareness, and as her two oldest daughter's would tell anyone, their mother seemed to be able to _sense_ when something was amiss.

" _Gilbert is a dung-eater! Gilbert is a dung-eater!_ " a young girl's voice called out in a sing-song tune. A moment later Pepper's three-year-old son Gilbert came running in, tears streaming down his face and brown smudges around his mouth. I cringed when I realized what those smudges were, given the chanting. Pepper's twin daughters ran in right after him, still chanting. When they caught sight of their mother, both girls stopped short and immediately shifted their gazes to the ground, ceasing their chant mid-sentence.

"Mommy!" Gilbert cried, holding his arms out for Pepper to pick him up. She immediately reached down and picked him up, lifting her apron to rub the evidence from his face between turning her stern eyes to both her daughters.

"What have you two done now?" she asked, the exasperation clear in her voice.

"Mommy, Gilbert was eating dragon dung!" Joan said, while her sister Juliana snickered.

"They…they—" Gilbert began between sobs, letting out a hiccup. "They said it was chocolate pudding!"

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves!" Pepper chastised them. "How would you feel if someone tricked you into eating dung?"

"Only a tickle brain is dumb enough to eat dragon dung!" Juliana said and both girls started giggling.

Their faces were masks of pure innocence, but the devious sparkle in their eyes told a different story. No one was sure where they got their mischievous streak from, but they were two of the most conniving children I had ever met. Even Cuthbert hadn't been this terrible as a child—and that was no easy feat! Their most recent escapade of tricking their younger brother into eating dragon dung was nothing compared to what they were capable of. About a week before I left for Northumbria, they'd tied Gilbert to a wooden post and piled straw around him, pretending that he was a witch and they were priests. They'd actually managed to set fire to the straw before anyone noticed. Pepper nearly had a heart attack, and I had to slice the ropes with my sword and grab Gilbert from the kindling fire before it reached him. They were only four, and Gilbert had willingly let them tie him up, thinking it great fun to play pretend, so I was fairly certain they weren't actually _trying_ to kill their brother, but the thought of what _could_ have happened still disturbed me.

 _"Gilbert is a dung-eater!"_ Juliana chanted again, and Gilbert let out a small whimper, burying his face in his mother's shoulder. Pepper narrowed her eyes at her daughters, and Jane knew this was one of the rare times when she actually got angry.

"That is it—I want you to go and help your father for the rest of the day, so that you can learn the _proper_ use for dragon dung!" she stated, pointing a finger towards the gardens just outside. "If he gives you a good report, I _might_ allow you to go to bed with supper tonight!"

With a pouting expression on both of their faces, the girls set off to find Rake and help him tend to his vegetables. As soon as they were out of sight Pepper's stern expression immediately softened and she turned her attention back to Gilbert.

"It tastes bad," he said, tears pooling in his eyes. Pepper patted him on the back as she walked over to the small fountain that allowed water to flow into the kitchen. She placed Gilbert down next to it and then filled a wooden cup with the water, letting him rinse away the foul taste. While he swished the water back and forth in his mouth Pepper walked over to the loaf of bread that was cooling on the kitchen table and cut off a slice. Then she opened the jar where she kept her supply of honey and drizzling some onto the steaming bread. Gilbert's eyes grew hungry as he watched his mother take the cup of water from him and then hand over the piece of bread. I was amazed at how well Pepper had handled the situation.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked softly once Gilbert had finished his treat.

He gave a nod of his head, but the sniffling said otherwise. "Am I going to die?"

She managed a small chuckle for his sake. "Of course not, Gilbert. You see your father put dragon dung on his plants, and they do not die, do they?"

"Then it will make me grow taller?"

Pepper's expression grew worried. "No, dragon dung is just for plants, not little boys," she rushed to assure him, then walked over to where baby Ruth was playing with a wooden toy on her blanket. "How about you be a big boy and watch your little sister while mommy works?"

"Okay." His tears had all but stopped by the time Pepper set him down to watch baby Ruth.

 _I never want children,_ I thought to myself, and not for the first time either. I was always praised for my expert way of handling Lavinia when she was younger, but I'd never really had the desire to be a mother. There was just so much I wanted to do, and so many adventures to be had out there. I dreamed of traveling to far off places and helping decipher dragon runes; a child would only tie me down. Now that I'd achieved my lifelong dream of becoming a knight, having a child would only end that dream. After all, it was the duty of the mother to care for her baby, and there was no way I would be able to manage all my knightly duties _and_ care for a child at the same time. I wasn't even sure how Pepper managed it half the time. She was forever rushing around to both simultaneously fulfill her duties as castle cook, and keep her children under control.

My reverie was interrupted when Pepper walked back over to me, letting out a tired sigh. "I love my children, Jane," she said, her voice low so that only I could hear her, "but sometimes I envy you."

I unconsciously crossed my arms over my stomach, thinking about how all that might be about to change. At the unwanted thought, I frowned and shook my head. Hadn't I promised myself I wouldn't think about that? When I looked up again Pepper was giving me a strange look. "Jane, what is wrong?"

"I already told you, nothing. Now, have you seen Dragon? The King wants him to fly us to Northumbria in two days and I need to tell him."

Her eyes stared at me imploringly for a few moments before giving a nod. "He is up in his cave. Without you here he has been so lonely these past couple of weeks."

"Thank you, Pepper." I did my best to force a smile before heading off to the stables for my horse.

Walking up to Dragon's cave would take time, and in that time I would be alone with my thoughts…thoughts that were better left untouched. Taking a horse would give me something to concentrate on, as well as affording me less time to dwell on things that should be left shoved away in the back of my mind. Thankfully, I found my horse still saddled since Smithy was in the process of tending to Gunther's horse.

"I need Cleaver for an hour or two," I told him before swinging myself up in the saddle.

"All right, but she has had a hard journey. Be careful not to wear her out."

I gave a nod of understanding before setting off up the mountain. Soon we reached the entrance to Dragon's cave, and the horse came to a stop, not daring to go any further. I swung myself down and strode in, looking around the cavernous room.

"Dragon?" I called out, cupping my hands around my mouth.

"Jane?" Dragon's voice called back. A moment later he walked into view, and my face lit up with a smile. Running over to him, I threw my arms around his snout.

"Miss me, Green Lips?"

"Just a little."

"Just a little, you say?" I asked, pulling away. "Pepper said you have been lonely these past couple of weeks." I put both hands on my hips and gave him a teasing smile.

"The other short lives are so boring. All they do is work, work, work. Nobody to fly patrol with…or anybody to scratch my scales." He tipped his head down. I took the hint and raised a hand to scratch his head. "Ah, yes, that is the spot!" After a moment or two he leaned away. "So, how was the trip?"

I pulled away and walked into the cave, sitting down and leaning my back against the wall. Dragon joined me a moment later, curling up next to me. "The talk with King Eanred went well. He agreed to the alliance, but he wants to meet you before he signs it."

Dragon gave a nod. "Completely understandable. I _am_ an amazing creature."

He gave me a toothy grin, which I couldn't help but laugh at. This was why I had missed _him_ most of all—his easy ability to make me laugh and relax when things became too much. "Yes, so King Caradoc wants us to fly there."

"Okay. I am ready to go when you are, Jane."

And now the part I was dreading telling him… "And Gunther is to come with us."

"All right. I shall have to fly slower so he can keep up on his horse, but—"

"No, Dragon, he is to ride _with_ us."

He turned his large red eyes to me and narrowed them. "I do not remember saying he could ride on my back."

I looked down at my hands. "Look, I know how you feel about Gunther. Believe me, I am not too excited about this either, but the King has decreed it—"

"Well, when the King has grown wings and carried Gunther two hundred miles on _his_ back, then we can talk!" He turned his head away and let out a snort of smoke. "I do not carry anyone on my back that I do not _want_ there."

"I understand how you feel, but please do not make things more difficult. It is just this one time—"

"Until the King decides to make me his personal pack mule—flying around whomever he pleases! I am a dragon, Jane—not a common horse!"

I scooted closer to him and rested my head on his neck, glancing up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, for me?" When he didn't respond I knew I'd have to resort to bribery. "After we get back I will spend the whole day studying dragon runes with you, _and_ I will scratch that hard to reach spot on your back."

Dragon was quiet for a moment, so I knew that he was at least contemplating it. "Spend the day watching cows with me as well, and you have a deal."

I let out a tolerant sigh. "All right, you win."

He gave me a grin, angling his body so that his back was facing me. "You can start the scratching now."

* * *

My eyes snapped open in the darkness. I shot up in bed, feeling my pulse race beneath my linen shirt and my breath coming in short gasps. Pushing the stray black strands of hair away from my face, I threw my feet over the edge of my bed and propped my elbows up on my knees. I rested my forehead in my hands, trying to slow down both the spinning of my mind and the erratic beating of my heart.

I had another dream about Jane…another _intimate_ dream.

I'd had a few before, over the course of the past few years, but despite the recurring theme, this dream had been different from the others. Usually it would follow a plot, but this one had been a kaleidoscope of sights and sensations. There were only brief fragments that flashed before me in my mind—Jane's sharp green gaze staring back at me through half-lidded eyes, the sound of her gasping my name in my ear. Not only that, but the feelings—the feel of her in my dreams—had been strange. The smoothness of her skin, the feel of her hot breath on my lips, my neck—it was all amplified, and yet clouded by my dreamlike state.

Before, my dreams were just the imaginings of someone who had not yet been with a woman, but this dream felt…realistic, somehow. Not that I would know, since I had never slept with a woman, but this had been pleasure beyond _anything_ I had ever experienced. I hadn't known dreams could reach such high levels of bliss. Yet those brief seconds had seemed just as real to me as the moonlight now spilling through my bedroom window. It had been as if Jane was actually _there_ , but I knew that was impossible.

I shook my head and let out a breath, standing up and beginning to pace my room in the limited light from the moon. How would I face Jane tomorrow when she showed up for practice in the training yard? The King had given us the day off, but Jane was a classic overachiever and would be there bright and early, I was sure of it. Each time I had a dream like this, it was hard to look her in the eye the next day. Sometimes I wished my feelings would just disappear, or that eventually I would get over my infatuation with her, but if anything, my feelings had only grown.

The walls of my room felt suffocating, so I pulled on a pair of boots and walked outside, wandering down to the docks. The cool night breeze made me relax a little as I stood there on the worn wooden planks and kicked a stray stone into the water.

Tomorrow I would skip practice and…find something else to do—just anything that would afford me time away from her. Maybe hide in the library and brush up on my studies. I would need the time alone since Jane and I were to ride Dragon to Northumbria in two days. At the thought of holding tightly onto her as we flew through the air—miles of _nothing_ between us and the ground—I felt both excited and anxious. That had been my desire for so long—to be able to hold her close, yet not like this. She would probably be dreading the whole thing, and of course that big frog of hers wouldn't hesitate to drop me on a dime if Jane said anything. It was no secret that Jane couldn't stand me, and after that stupid move I'd pulled a couple days ago where I'd drunkenly hurt her, her resentment for me had probably increased tenfold. I couldn't really blame her if she _did_ hate me; I hated _myself_ for hurting her. Every time I thought about what she had told me—about how I had cut her with my sword and insulted her like that, I felt a crushing sense of guilt. How could I have done such horrible things? The sight of that bloody cut on her arm made my stomach turn. Not because the sight _itself_ made me sick, but because of the knowledge that _I_ had given her that. The worst part was, there was no way I could make up for it—no way to earn forgiveness since we hadn't even been friends in the first place. I would have to carry on as usual, trading insults with her.

I gave a swift kick to a particularly large rock and watched as it skidded across the wooden docks before plopping into the water. One thing was clear—Jane hated me, and nothing was going to change that.

* * *

The next day I woke up early and decided to skip practice in the training yard. The King had given us the day to rest and relax, but I knew there was a good chance Gunther would head there anyway. I may have to endure him riding behind me on Dragon, but I would cross that bridge when I came to it. Right now, I needed space. Instead of staying holed up in my room, I decided to go find Jester. I hadn't seen him since I got back, and I had missed him dearly while I was away. He always gave the best advice, and right now that was exactly what I needed. After searching for a few minutes, I finally found him sitting in the library with a few leather bound books spread before him. When the door hinges squealed as I opened the door, he looked up to meet my gaze, and then a huge smile spread across his face.

"Jane!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and walking towards me. "They told me you arrived yesterday, but I could not find you."

I met him half-way and immediately threw my arms around him in a hug, pulling him close. He seemed a little surprised by this, but he only hesitated for a second before returning the embrace. All the stress and guilt from the past three days seemed to melt away as I let out a content sigh. I wanted to stay there in the comfort of his embrace for a while, but knew I should pull away or Jester might get the wrong idea. Despite feeling a tremendous love for him, it never extended beyond platonic feelings, even though I knew he had romantic feelings for me. Most of the time I tried not to lead him on, but at times like this—times when his embrace made my muscles relax and my brain calm—I had to remind myself that it meant something else entirely to him.

When I pulled away he must have seen some expression cross my face, or maybe it was the look in my eyes that tipped him off, because he asked, "Is something wrong?"

Was I really so easy to read that all my friends were able to tell immediately that something was wrong? I automatically shook my head at his question, and then cursed the involuntary defense. My main purpose in seeking him out had been to ask for advice. "Nothing, I just missed you while I was away." The smile that spread across his face reminded me that he read into my words, and that I should take more care about what I said around him. "So, what are you doing this morning?"

He led me over to the books spread before him. "Studying the ballads—just refreshing my memory is all. I could do it some other time if there was something else you wanted to do today."

"Spending time here is fine." I took a seat next to him and he reluctantly sat down.

As he lowered his gaze to the words on the page I looked for a way to ease into the topic. I couldn't just _tell_ Jester I had slept with Gunther while he was drunk and that I needed advice on what to do. No matter what, even Jester could not know the truth. It wasn't that I didn't trust him—of all the people in the castle, I trusted _him_ most of all, even above Dragon. I could tell him anything and he would carry my secret to the grave, but I knew about his feelings for me. Telling him something like that would break his heart.

All those years ago when that nasty rumor about Gunther and I had been spread around, Jester had been moody and distant—most of all towards me, and I shuddered to think how he would react to news that Gunther and I had done much more than simply _court_. His high opinion of me would be shattered, and I couldn't stand the thought of him looking at me with disgust or becoming distant right when I needed him the most. Jester was one of my best friends, and I couldn't risk losing that—I just _couldn't_. No, I had to find a way to tiptoe around the subject without actually revealing what I had done.

"Jester…" I began, and at his name he glanced up at me. "What would you do if…if you had done something terrible and it was a mistake and you could not tell anyone?" I was giving away too much, but it was too late to take it back. Whenever I was around him the words seemed to just spill from my mouth. "How do you ease a guilty conscious? How do you make things right?"

Concern filled his eyes. "Jane, what happened?"

I dropped my gaze. "I cannot tell you."

"You can tell me anything and I will not say a word."

"I cannot tell you," I repeated, looking up to meet his warm gaze.

He looked troubled by my words, but gave a thick swallow and nodded. "Jane, the only way to ease a guilty conscious is to tell someone, so if you will not tell me, then maybe you should confess it to the priest."

"I cannot even tell him," I whispered, and his eyes widened.

"Jane, what is so terrible that you cannot even tell a priest?"

"You have to understand that if I tell him, the word will get out. Nobody can know."

"You know confession is private."

"For certain sins," I whispered. I was giving away far, _far_ too much information. If I didn't stop I knew I would end up blurting out what I'd done. That was just the effect Jester had on me—he was always able to drag out what was wrong. He just naturally wanted to fix things and help me, but this was my burden to bear alone.

Jester's eyes widened as the weight of what I'd told him set in. There were only a select few sins that brought public confession upon a person—and all of them were very grave and serious. When he spoke again his voice was tight with worry, "Jane, what h—"

"I just want to know how I can make things right," I interrupted before leaning forward and burying my face in my hands. For a few moments there was only silence between us, but then Jester finally spoke.

"You have to decide for yourself how to make amends for whatever is it you have done. A self-prescribed penance, if you will."

At the expression I could feel a smile tug at my lips. "I do not think it works like that."

He gave me a nudge and I looked up. "Well, you have not left yourself many options since you refuse to tell anyone. Maybe if I knew the details I could help you." His expression grew serious. "You do not have to go through this alone. I am here for you, no matter what you have done."

At this he leaned forward and placed a hand on top of mine. The small comfort drove a knife through my heart, and made me want to tell him everything right then and there—the whole messy truth…but I couldn't. I couldn't burden him with my problems and drag him down into this mess I'd gotten myself into.

As I stared back into his tender gaze, I felt my walls coming up once again—the same walls that made me pull away whenever I sensed the small touches and looks meant more to him than they did to me. It was a stupid defense, because why should it be wrong to be _wanted_ by someone, even if that someone was a person whom I held no romantic feelings towards? It was such a great feeling—knowing I was _desired_ by someone, but at the feel of his thumb sliding over my hand, all I felt was a guilt that I didn't share the same feelings he had for me. If I had any sense at all, I would have fallen in love with Jester, but it figures I would fall in love with the one man who couldn't stand me. As my mother always said, I had an affinity for wanting things I shouldn't. With a tense smile, I pulled my hand away and rested it in my lap.

"I know." I gave Jester a grateful look, but didn't elaborate any further.

He had given me something to think about. Going to the priest was not an option. For most sins, confession and penance was private, but for a sin like mine—a _mortal_ sin—confession was made public so that the humiliation would prevent the perpetrator from committing the sin again. Not only that, but priests were required by Church law to tell authorities of certain sins like fornication, murder, and adultery. If I wanted to assuage my guilt, I would have to do so alone.

For something like this, there would usually be fasting, which meant I could not eat meat—or, in extreme cases, only bread and water—for a certain amount of time. For fornication, the sentence was usually years. That was my number one choice right now. Along with that, there was another penance that I could do—kindness towards a rival. Since my crime had been against Gunther, this could be my way to try and make right what I had done to him. The morning after, I'd tried being nice to him, but had ultimately failed. This time, I would try harder. No matter what he said or did, I would respond with kindness—though I was sure a million insults would race through my head with each word. Still, surely this would be enough to earn forgiveness. At the very least, it was a starting point.

Suddenly the door squeaked open, and I could have sworn my heart stopped when I looked up to see Gunther stroll in. When he caught sight of me his eyes widened, and he immediately dropped his gaze.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?" he shot back.

"I am spending time with Jester."

His eyes narrowed at the ground—still unwilling to look me in the eyes. Shouldn't _I_ be the one avoiding eye contact? What could he have to feel embarrassed about? Gunther didn't answer my question, even though I had given _him_ an answer, and simply retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Once he was gone I let out a silent breath of relief. What had _that_ been about? Gunther wasn't known for frequenting the library, so what purpose could he have had in coming here? He was supposed to be at the training yard, like he normally was. Even if he decided to take the day off and skip practice, why would be come to the library, of all places?

Beside me, Jester made a point of clearing his throat, drawing my attention back to him. "Am I missing something here?" he asked, eyes darting to the closed door and then back to me.

"No. I…I have to go now," I said, not caring how suspicious this made me look. The room seemed to be closing in on me, and time alone in my room was starting to look more and more appealing.

* * *

 **Here you are—Jane/Jester fluff in a Jane/Gunther story! Lol. I promise the next chapter will have a couple Jane/Gunther moments, though. As always, a big thanks to _Amelle Kyre_ for reading over this chapter and helping improve it! Thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and commented thus far—your support means a lot to me! :)**

 **Now, onto the history:**

 **Chocolate actually didn't exist in Europe back in Jane's time. It's believed cacao beans were brought back to Europe by Christopher Columbus when he visited the New World—but more as a curiosity than anything else. It wasn't until later, when Spanish friars observed the Natives using this bean to make a drink, that they brought it back and introduced the chocolate drink to the Spanish Court, where they then added natural sweeteners like honey and sugar to the mix. Though it became very popular in the Spanish Court, it didn't spread to the rest Europe until about a hundred years later. So why add something to this story that wouldn't be discovered for another 700 years or so? Well, because Kippernium already has food in the show that didn't exist in Europe at the time.**

 **Potatoes (which have been featured on the show) weren't brought to Europe until the early 1530's—when Spanish Conquistadors conquered Peru and brought the vegetable back to Spain. Also featured in the show are pumpkins—which also weren't around until they were brought back to Europe by Christopher Columbus. It's said that he carried pumpkin seeds back with him to Spain, but these pumpkins were used to feed pigs—not as a source of food for humans. There's actually a list of foods that didn't exist in Europe before they were brought back from the New World: corn, tomatoes, bell peppers, chili peppers, vanilla, tobacco, beans, avocados, peanuts, pecans, cashews, pineapples, blueberries, sunflowers, gourds, and squash, just to name a few big ones. I'm not sure if any of these are mentioned in the show, but it wouldn't surprise me if they were.**

 **Martin Baynton has said that the reason they have potatoes in Kippernium is because Dragon brought them back with him from when he visited the New World. Do I believe that Dragon could have traversed the whole Atlantic ocean with a handful of potatoes, maybe a pumpkin or two, and God knows _what_ else, clutched in his hands and not have eaten them on the journey back? Nope. But whatever, it's the best explanation we'll get. And if he could have done that with potatoes and pumpkins, why not chocolate too? Next chapter's history notes will deal with a few historical inaccuracies featured on the show.**

 **Well, that's it for now! Hope you enjoyed the update, and if you should find yourself anxious for the next chapter and with some time to kill, feel free to check out my YouTube channel under the same username. It's basically Jane/Gunther central over there, and if you're looking for a video with a plot similar to this story, 'Jane/Gunther - I Can't Stay Away' would be the video for you. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The morning light spilled into the courtyard, lighting up the landscape as it peeked over the mountain. I gazed around at the small party standing in a semi-circle around Dragon and me, waiting to wave us off. Any minute now Gunther would arrive and we would set off for what was sure to be a very long journey. As expected, Gunther strolled into the courtyard a few minutes later with a leather bag slung over one shoulder and made his way over to me. He had on a mask of confidence, but for the first time, I noticed the apprehension in his eyes as he glanced at Dragon.

Sir Theodore took a step forward and held out the treaty my father had drawn up two days ago, and then handed me King Caradoc's reply. "You are to deliver this to His Majesty, King Eanred. Once he reads over it and approves, you will escort him and a party of his choosing here for the official signing." He paused here to make sure he had our full attention. "This treaty holds the key to not only stopping the threat to our land, but bringing about the alliance of our two kingdoms. Keep that in mind when you are there, and represent your King well."

"Yes, Sir." I slipped both scrolls into the bag I carried over my shoulder, and then turned to Dragon. Swinging myself up onto his neck, I turned to Gunther and held out a hand. "Ready to go?"

His expression wavered for a split second, but he took my hand in the end and swung himself up behind me. He placed both hands on my waist and scooted forward. At the feel of his body once again pressed against mine, I felt my heart stutter for a couple of seconds before it finally managed to restart. As Dragon lifted his head, I _felt_ more than heard when Gunther let out a startled gasp and wrapped his arms around my stomach, holding me in a vice-like grip. All air escaped my lungs at both his firm hold and the way it made my muscles tighten in response.

All my friends called out their farewell, and I gave them all a wave as we set off into the air. With a sudden swoop and a gust of wind that whipped my hair around my face, we soared up into the sky. I could feel Gunther's accelerated heartbeat against my back and the ragged, uneven breaths of air he let out as we climbed higher and higher. The land beneath us fell away, and suddenly we were coasting over the forest. Miles and miles of land stretched out before us.

Suddenly I felt something bury into my hair, and then there was a soft tickling against my cheek. When I turned my head, I saw that Gunther had hid his face in my neck. His hands were clenched into fists across my stomach, and they shook slightly with each rise and dip of Dragon's wings. I couldn't be sure, but I would bet a month's wage that Gunther's eyes were squeezed shut.

The old Jane would have made a remark about him being a coward, but I had made a promise to myself that I would be kind to him. After a moment or two the involuntary urge to insult him passed, and my heart constricted painfully in my chest as another feeling washed over me—a pitying sort of emotion when I saw how terrified he must be, because Gunther never showed weakness to _anyone_.

A pang of guilt hit my heart.

Removing a hand from its hold on Dragon's horn, I gently placed it over Gunther's shaking hands. At the contact he raised his head slightly and gazed at me with suspicion, and then a look of weariness in his eyes—as if he expected me to mock him.

"I was _terrified_ when I first rode Dragon."

He narrowed his eyes, a snarl curling at his lips. "Oh, so I am only _slightly_ braver than a ten-year-old child, is that it?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Leave it to Gunther to find a hidden insult in what was meant to be comforting. Then again, when had I ever tried to comfort him before? "Well, at least _I_ —"

"No, that is not at all what I meant—" I interrupted. "I am only saying I understand your fear."

"I am not afraid."

"Right, so I suppose the death grip you have on me is just to make sure you do not fall?" I shot back before I could help myself. Gunther didn't reply to that, just let out a snort as he loosened his grip ever so slightly. I let out a sigh. I had gone and done it again—Gunther knew how to push my buttons so well. Taking in a deep breath, I cleared my mind and tried again.

"After _my_ first ride, Dragon had to get Jester to come and pry me off when we finally landed— _that_ is how tightly I was holding onto him," I spoke with an amused tone to my voice, trying to keep the conversation light. "So, you see? You are braver than I was."

Gunther looked surprised at first, and then narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to find another hidden insult in my words. Finally, his features relaxed, and the guarded look in his eyes faded away as the start of a smile pulled at his lips. I felt his tense body ease behind me.

"Not necessarily. I fear someone might have to pry me off _you_ when we land," he teased with a look in his eyes that set my cheeks on fire. His voice was low, and I could feel his lips nearly pressed against my ear as he spoke.

A shudder ran down my spine; it was just the natural reaction of my body to him—and the one thing I had been most afraid of happening when King Caradoc informed me Gunther would be riding with me. If my reactions were _all_ this obvious, Gunther would figure out my feelings for him in no time. Then again, maybe that had been his intention with that line—to gauge my response. See if he could make me flustered with a few choice words. That _would_ be just like him. Surely he must have caught the underlying meaning to his words—because if he did, then maybe they could be interpreted as flirting with me...or maybe I was reading too far into things, just like I always did.

Before I could respond, Dragon cut in. "I will gladly volunteer to pry him off. How does right _now_ sound?"

With that, Dragon gave a sudden dip before steadying out, making my stomach momentarily rise to my throat. I was used to the feeling, but I felt Gunther's body once again tense as his arms tightened around my stomach, pulling me closer to him. Great, now everything I'd just said to make him feel at ease was wasted. Though I could hardly blame Dragon. I'd spent the good majority of the last ten years sharing insults with Dragon about Gunther. He didn't know what I'd done to Gunther. He didn't know that being nice to Gunther was my way of making up for the terrible deed I'd committed.

"Behave, Dragon." I removed my hand from Gunther's and gave Dragon's head a couple of pats. With Gunther faring no better than when we'd set off, I turned my attention back to the limitless horizon and tried to focus on anything _other_ than the feel of his hands around my waist.

This was going to be a long journey indeed.

* * *

 _Jester_

It was around noontime that I finally wandered down to Pepper's kitchen. Not because I was hungry, but because Jane's words had been troubling me ever since yesterday. I knew Jane definitely wouldn't tell someone like Dragon what was bothering her—especially if she was trying to keep it from getting out—but maybe she had told her best girl friend. As I headed over to Pepper, who was currently stirring a big pot of stew, I tried to ignore the guilt that had settled low in my stomach when I realized I was betraying Jane's trust. I pushed the feeling away and told myself that I was only doing this to help her. Whenever something was bothering Jane, it bothered me as well. I only wished that Jane trusted me enough to tell me what had her in such distress.

"Jester?" Pepper asked when she turned and caught sight of me. "The midday meal is not quite ready, but if you want to chop some vegetables it would be a great help." She pointed to a chopping block with a knife and carrots resting on top.

"Glad to help, but I actually came for another reason…" I picked up the knife and began chopping the carrots into smaller pieces. At my hesitation Pepper paused in her work and turned to face me, a questioning look in her eyes. "…to talk about Jane."

"Ah, yes. You too, I see," Pepper said with a nod, as if that didn't surprise her in the least. I was so surprised by the realization that Jane had told Pepper—not _me—_ that the knife slipped and accidentally sliced my finger. I let out a hiss of pain as the blade dropped from my grasp, clattering to the board. Pepper rushed over and swiped a rag out from her pocket, holding it over the small cut on my index finger. "Are you all right?"

"Just a small cut," I said dismissively, taking the linen to hold it against my finger. "So Jane told you what had her so scared?"

Concern filled Pepper's eyes as she shook her head. "No, I only meant that she seemed troubled but that she would not say what was bothering her. I thought you mentioned it because you noticed too." I felt my spirits deflate. It looked like Jane really did want to keep it from getting out, but the question was, why? Even if she had done something terrible, it was not as if we would condemn her for it, nor would we tell anyone. "Did Jane really tell you she was scared? Did she say anything else?"

"Well, she…" I paused, wondering if I should reveal what I knew to Pepper. Years ago she had been the one to—unknowingly, of course—circulate the rumor about Jane and Gunther courting. Pepper was a trusted friend, and I knew she only had Jane's best interests at heart, but I didn't want rumors about Jane's honor and integrity swirling around the castle. She was a great knight and an even better person. She didn't deserve to be gossiped about, and I would see to it that she wasn't. Pepper seemed to know what I was thinking, because she took a step forward and gave me an earnest gaze.

"I only want to help Jane, you know that. Whatever you say will remain in the kitchen."

I let out a sigh, knowing this was a betrayal my friendship with Jane, but was it really such a bad one when I was only doing it to help her? "She would only say that she felt guilty about something, and that she was scared to go to the priest because he would make her publicly confess."

Pepper furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. "But confession is private."

"Not for _certain_ sins—and those were her exact words."

Pepper's hands flew to her mouth as she let out a gasp. It seemed she had picked up on Jane's implication as well. "What could be so horrible?"

I bit down lightly on my lip as I removed the cloth form my finger, relieved to see the bleeding had slowed. There were only a limited number of sins that had to be publicly confessed, and I knew Jane was incapable of most of them. Fornication, adultery, heresy—those were all things Jane would _never_ do…but the one that kept resurfacing in my mind was something I had been considering ever since Jane and I had talked: murder.

"I think that during the journey, Jane may have been forced to kill—in self-defense of course!" I rushed to assure Pepper, when her eyes widened. "She and Gunther might have been attacked, and Jane may have been forced to kill her assailant. You know how Jane is about those things. She has never killed before, and I think she might hold herself responsible, even if she had no other choice."

"Oh, how terrible for her," Pepper said, placing a hand over her chest. "But we cannot know for sure."

"Jane is not capable of anything else that would require public confession. There is only one possible answer."

"But we cannot confront her about it," Pepper said, holding up her wooden spoon. "We should wait until she is ready to tell us herself."

"I know," I relented with a sigh. "I just wish there were something I could do for her."

Pepper placed a hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging smile. "I think that for now, being there is enough. She will talk when she is ready, and—"

"Mommy!" the shrill voice of Pepper's son Gilbert cried out, and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Oh, what have those girls done now?" she muttered to herself as she thrust her spoon at me and took off in the direction of her son's cry. "Watch the stew, Jester!"

With a weary feeling settling in my bones, I walked over to the large black pot and began to stir it. Something had happened on that trip to Northumbria—something that had deeply disturbed Jane—and when she was ready, she would tell me…wouldn't she?

* * *

Dragon turned his large red gaze to the storm raging outside the cave, while Gunther threw a couple more sticks onto the fire we had going. I held my hands towards the heat and rubbed them together before pulling the map from my pack. Unrolling it, I scanned over the terrain and found the highest mountain near the region where I believed we were—where the cave we'd taken shelter in had to reside.

"We are not far from our destination," I announced, then rolled the scroll back up before turning my gaze to an irritated-looking Gunther.

"Thankfully," he muttered.

I glanced back at Dragon. The whole trip the large green lizard had threatened to drop Gunther if he did not stop digging his knees into his neck, which only made Gunther do it all the more since the only reason he had been doing so was _because_ he was scared of falling off. When he finally landed in front of the cave to take shelter, Gunther nearly leapt down and scrambled through the dark entrance.

"Riding Dragon makes a much faster trip than riding horses, does it not?"

"Perhaps, but horses cannot talk—nor do they threaten to drop you to your death every ten minutes," he mumbled.

At this Dragon's gaze swung back to meet his and narrowed. "It is not too late to drop you off the mountainside."

I rolled my eyes at their behavior. How did the two of them ever become friends all those years ago? Crossing my arms and leaning against the wall, I thought about how much easier this whole thing would be if they _were_ friends. An idea began to shape in my mind. If they had been friends once, what was stopping them from doing so again? Much as I hated to admit it, Gunther had changed a lot from that annoying fourteen-year-old boy he used to be. I doubted he would try to take advantage of Dragon a second time, but the question was, would they even want to be friends after that incident?

Dragon and Gunther made no secret of their disdain for each other. Then again, just a few days ago Gunther and I had been very nearly at each other's throats, and now here we were—getting along for once. It was a tentative thing, and I wasn't quite sure what to call what had happened earlier. We weren't friends yet, but we weren't insulting each other either. Maybe I should just call it the start of something new. And who knew—maybe if Gunther and I could get along, then he and Dragon could get along as well. I just had to find a common ground between them. Now what was it that brought them together in the first place? I closed my eyes and could barely remember the dung war, and then all those cheesy jokes that I never found funny. Wait, that was it—jokes!

I tried to think of the dumbest joke I could, and then waved an arm between the two of them, grabbing their attention. "Do you two want to hear a joke?"

"No!" they both exclaimed at the same time.

I leaned back against the wall, surprised by the outburst. Well, at least they were agreeing for once. "Why not?"

Gunther made a face. "Your jokes are never funny."

"The short life is right."

 _Neither are the jokes either of you tell,_ I thought to myself, but didn't voice it. I raised my chin up in defense. "I will have you know that _Jester_ told me this joke, and it is his _job_ to be funny."

When neither of them bothered to reply, I took it as an opportunity. "Okay, what is a cow with no legs called?" I paused for dramatic effect, but neither of them looked like they really cared. "Ground beef!"

The effect was immediate. Gunther's eyebrows rose in surprise as a laugh burst out from his lips. Dragon burst out laughing as well—though he laughed a bit harder, since he was practically obsessed with anything cow-related. I managed a small chuckle, even though I hadn't found the joke all that funny.

"That was actually good," Gunther admitted.

"I have a better joke," Dragon boasted.

"Then let us hear it," Gunther replied. His tone was challenging, but there was a smile on his face to counteract any negativity.

"What is invisible and smells like carrots?"

Gunther's eyes lit up. "Oh, I heard that one—rabbit farts!"

Both of them burst out laughing again, while I just sat back and watched as they started to tell jokes. None of them were funny—to me, at least—but they seemed to be having a good time. All the tension and hostility from before seemed to melt away as they shared dumb jokes with each other, and I was more than happy to bear the stupidity of several of them just to see my best friend and the man I had feelings for start to get along for the first time in ten years.

As I watched Dragon collapse onto the cave floor in a fit of laughter, I felt a sense of dissatisfaction bloom in my chest. It was the same feeling I'd had all those years ago, and I immediately recognized the first stirrings of jealousy. It wasn't the same kind of jealousy as before, however. This wasn't the kind of jealousy I got when I saw my best friend being stolen away by my rival. No, this was a sense of longing—of being on the outside looking in and wanting to share in the warmth and easy laughter between the two. It was like a wall between me and them that I couldn't get past. I'd never shared the same sense of humor as those two.

I drew my knees up to my chest as they continued to laugh with each other. This was what I had wanted, so why did it make me irritated now that they were paying more attention to each other than to me? Just as the thought crossed my mind Gunther turned his steely gaze to me, a huge grin now spread across his face.

"Hey, do you know any other jokes?"

"Well, I do know one more," I replied, and Gunther gave an encouraging nod for me to continue. "What did the big bucket say to the little bucket? You look a little pail!"

Gunther let out a short chuckle. "Not bad, Jane."

"Not bad for a beginner, that is," Dragon said, "but I have a joke that will make you laugh until your sides ache!"

Gunther's gaze turned to him. "Oh, yeah? Stop teasing and tell us, then!"

"Okay, so there is a woman who is about to give birth—"

My senses jumped on high alert when I realized what joke Dragon was about to tell, and I immediately held up both hands, stopping him mid-sentence. "No! _Not_ that joke—it is rude and offensive!"

"Rude and offensive, but _funny!_ "

I stood and put both hands on my hips, staring him down. "No, Dragon. I do not want to hear that joke repeated."

"Tell me when she is not around," Gunther said, leaning past me to talk to Dragon.

I turned to give him a scolding look, but at the look he gave me in response, I felt my breath lodge in my throat. With one eyebrow quirked up and an amused smirk tugging at his lips, I marveled at how attractive he looked right then and there. That look was pure challenge, his way of saying, _Oh, so you dislike what I said? What are you going to do about it?_ It used to drive me mad, and it still did. I _still_ felt my temper being stirred, but along with it a flame of desire sparked. Well, that was certainly _new._ I could feel my cheeks heating up at the small gesture that _used_ to drive me insane. Stupid bog weevil! Why was it he had the uncanny ability to make me want to kiss him _and_ slap him at the same time? I let out a sigh and plopped down onto the ground next to Gunther, drawing my legs up under myself and leaning against the cave wall.

"If you will not let me tell my joke, then you must entertain us with one of yours," Dragon said.

"Okay, fine." He knew me too well—he knew I was too stubborn to turn down any challenge. "Um…well." I racked my brain for a good joke, but came up short. A few tense moments of silence passed, while I am sure my heartbeat rose to an unhealthy rate. I didn't _know_ any other jokes. "What did…um…"

"Did one snowman say to the other?" Gunther finished for me, though I had only been throwing lines out in hopes that something would come to me.

I gazed into his eyes with a look that probably betrayed my relief. "Yes, but apparently you have already heard that joke," I said quickly, hoping the glow of the fire would hide any blushing in my cheeks.

"Well, I have not," Dragon interjected.

"What did one snowman say to the other?" he asked with a grin, and when Dragon gave a shrug, he continued, "Do you smell carrots?"

As Dragon let out a laugh and Gunther followed suit, _that_ was when I realized it—Gunther had been trying to cover for me not knowing anymore jokes. He had also been the one to draw me back into the two-sided conversation he and Dragon were having. I had been nice to him and now he was being nice to me—we were acting like real friends. Maybe my self-prescribed penance wouldn't simply be me acting nice towards Gunther while he insulted me—maybe it could be the start of a friendship between us…maybe it could lead to more, given enough time. That hope, no matter how small, bloomed in my chest until it found its way to my lips, stretching them into a huge smile.

"Oh, hey, I have a really good joke!" Dragon exclaimed, his big head rising up from its previous position on the floor. "Okay, so there is a man who lives in a cave…"

I rolled my eyes when I recognized the joke. It wasn't crude or offensive, by any means…it simply didn't make any sense, much less make anyone laugh. Well, anyone besides Dragon. Gunther seemed to be focused on the story, so obviously he hadn't heard the joke before.

"And then the man said, 'That is not a cow, that is my _cave_ chicken!'" At that last line Dragon flopped onto the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter, while Gunther furrowed his eyebrows and turned a questioning gaze to me, obviously trying to find the humor in the joke.

"Do you understand the joke?" he asked, leaning towards me to whisper as Dragon continued to laugh.

" _Nobody_ understands that joke," I whispered back.

Gunther smirked and wiped a hand across his forehead, pretending to wipe away sweat. "Thank goodness, I was beginning to think I was turning into you—no sense of humor!"

There was a teasing smile on his face, but no matter the intention, his words delivered a sharp sting to my chest—like the blow of a stave right to the ribs. I could feel my eyes narrow in anger as my thought process became jumbled.

"Now Gunther, if you were _me_ people might actually like you for a change," I said before I could think twice about it. The teasing smile instantly slid from his face, and there was a brief flash of hurt in his eyes before a mask of cool indifference covered any traces of it. I regretted my words in an instant when I saw his eyes narrow at me, and any anger I still harbored evaporated like smoke in the air. I had gone too far with that comment.

"I…I am sorry," I stammered, watching as a range of emotions flickered across his face at my words. "That was mean."

"Since when are _you_ sorry about the things you say?" His gaze was as cold as the steel of a blade, and about twice as sharp.

"Since now, and since it is not true." Gunther snorted and rolled his eyes, showing he did not believe a word I said. "No, I am serious." A few beats passed without so much as a reaction from him, which hurt even more than if he had replied back with a scathing insult. There was only one way to make this right.

" _I_ like you, Gunther." His expression softened just a bit, and he raised one eyebrow in suspicion. "And so does Dragon."

"I like your jokes," the big lizard said, deciding to put his two cents worth in at the worst possible moment. I sent Dragon a scathing look, and thankfully Gunther didn't notice. He only turned to his side and slid down the cave wall until he was lying down.

"Save your breath and get some rest. We leave at first light."

I watched with a heavy heart as he settled down with his back turned to me. We had been getting along fine, but thanks to me, my big mouth, and my hot temper, I had gone and blown it up. _Great work, Jane. You were on your way to becoming friends, and now you are right back where you started._

I silenced the doubtful voice in my head with a firm resolve. If there was one thing I was _not_ , it was a quitter. I had made a vow to myself to be kind to Gunther, and it had started out as a way to make amends, to atone for what I had done to him—but now I had a new reason…because I had seen a glimpse of what a friendship with Gunther looked like. It had always been a rivalry between us, and that wasn't going to change in one day. Being friends with him wouldn't be _easy_ , but then again, I was never one for taking the easy way out. We might fight and bicker and drive each other mad, but I would make good on my vow to be kind to him.

I would be a friend to him, no matter what he threw at me.

* * *

 **Two steps forward, one step back, eh?**

 **A big thanks to** _Amelle Kyre_ **for her help on this chapter! :)**

 **A fun fact: Did anybody else notice the Wizards Tower hiding in the corner of the Royal Gardens? I was watching All Fool's Day a couple weeks ago, and there's a point (around the 12 to 13 minute mark) when I saw Dragon and Jane plotting near a part of the castle that hadn't been featured in the show before. (or at least, that I never noticed) I paused the screen and just stared at it, with all it's overgrown roots wrapping around the bricks, mushrooms sticking out of the wall, a strange wooden door, and suddenly realized—it's the Wizard's Tower! If you know what to look for, you can spot it in other episodes as well, since it's right across from Jane's tower. Go check it out, it looks pretty cool!**

 **Now, onto the historical facts: a few things that I've seen in _Jane and the Dragon_ isn't historically accurate, and I'm not sure why I expected a show about a girl knight and her 300-year-old talking Dragon to be completely historically accurate, but the thing is, it could have all been easily fixed by setting the show at a later date in Medieval History. I'm not sure why they chose a time period so far before knight's reached their height, or before the age of chivalry was in full-swing. I know it matters to the creators, because they _did_ do their research** — **the existence of Kippernium could only have taken place during a time when England was divided into separate kingdoms** — **but there's some things they overlooked:**

 **That plague they mentioned in _A_ _Pig Of A Problem_? Yeah, the Black Plague didn't come to England until the mid-1300's. Before then, the only plague of some magnitude was the ****Plague of Justinian, but I'm almost certain they're not referring to this, since it happened nearly 300 years prior to Jane's time, and we're not even certain it spread to England.**

 **You know the medieval sport of jousting that's mentioned in the show? Jousting came about between the 10th and 11th centuries in relation to mounted warfare, and it wasn't until later that it became a sport of spectatorship. The first recorded reference to a jousting tournament was in 1066, the same year William the Conqueror took over England. (Though I _will_ have a jousting tournament take place in this story, since it's TV canon).**

 **Even the plate armor seen on the show that Sir Theodore and Jane wears belongs to a later time than when the story is said to have taken place, since it took a lot of time and money to make. Although there were early instances of partial plate armor (used by the Romans and Greeks), the use of this was not seen in Europe until the 13th century. Nearly everything we think of when we think of knights came from the High Middle Ages—the 11th, 12th, 13th centuries, and onward. I still love the show either way, though.**

 **Well, that's it! The next chapter will feature Northumbria and some facts about that kingdom in the author's note. Hope you all enjoyed the update! :)**


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